Forever Isn't Enough
by onehellofashot
Summary: AH/AU. DELENA. 1864. Just as virtuous romance begins to bloom between the polite Damon Salvatore and the beautiful Elena Gilbert, he is forced to leave her behind in a town that is haunted by its own shadow. Suddenly, an innocent courtship is rocked with death, the supernatural, and most importantly: love. FIXED.
1. Part I: Chapter I

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello, all! Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I hope you'll stay patient with it as I am quite unsure about where it is going - I'm just writing as I go along. _

_A note on supernatural creatures – especially doppelgängers: Though supernatural creatures play an exceptionally large role in this fic, doppelgängers don't serve any purpose in this story. Therefore, Elena and Katherine – though very similar looking – are not identical._

_RATED M for adult themes (language and sex) - though these things don't come along until much later in the story (it is 1864, after all). I'd also like to alert you to the possible (though not guaranteed) __**TRIGGER WARNINGS**__: blood, violence, sexual violence._

_I also need tell you guys about my beta reader, Natchez, who I began working with very late into the story. She's been such a peach, editing old chapters along with new ones at the same time. My thanks for her are endless. If you like, you can find her profile linked on mine. She writes her own stories and they're awesome._

_That's all for now… I do hope you enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Part I<strong>

**Chapter I**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

In the crisp autumn months of 1864, the only thing that seemed to stir in Mystic Falls was the dead leaves that had begun to fall from the trees. It was as though the Earth was making an effort to prolong the changes that were coming, with one day enveloping the children in a blanket of warmth and the next filled with wind biting at their cheeks. Yet the small town could sense a change was lurking on the horizon. Weary mothers and wives wrote letters to their sons and husbands who were off fighting in the war, hoping that they would hear back soon. Horses whinnied in their pens, knocking up against the wooden barriers that prevented them from running off while dogs howled at the moon.

Not coincidentally, this change came into town on the coldest day of the year. Children wiped their little red noses across the thick fabric of their sleeves while their fathers stayed in for the day, sitting with their wives by the hearth. Even though it was the middle of the day, the sun could not be seen in the overcast skies - a dreary background compared to the stylish carriage that lazily made its way into town. The children playing in their yards stopped to assess the newcomer who passed by. The driver kept his eyes ahead of him, blankly ignoring his surroundings as he passed, yet a gold fan peeked out from inside, two dark and intriguing eyes looked over it. It wasn't long before the carriage arrived outside of the Gilbert residence; a large estate similar to those near it. The entire house and its staff stood on the front porch to welcome the visitor. There was the staff that worked in the house, the yard, and the stables off to each side with John Gilbert, his niece Elena, and his nephew Jeremy front and center.

John had been a resident at the estate for a little over a year. He arrived in Mystic Falls at the request of his brother, Grayson, when he informed him that his wife was sick with consumption. At that point, it had only been three months since John's own wife, Isobel, had died of the same cause. Although she never felt for him as he did for her, he was desperately in love. When she was gone, he had nothing.

He hadn't been in town more than a week before Miranda was dead, and Grayson was left sitting by her bedside with nothing but her shell to look at. The town united in mourning, lamenting the loss of such a kind and loving woman. From then on, Grayson's already deteriorating mental state quickly declined into insanity. He would lock himself away in his study for days, studying old books and journals on the supernatural. The church was furious upon learning of this, the Reverend himself declared that it was blasphemy. No amount of public scorn and shame could tear Grayson away from his books; he was sure that his family was cursed and his wife's life was taken by a spirit. It wasn't before another month had passed that John found his brother hanging in his study. John agreed to stay and oversee the estate until Jeremy was of age, though it was no coincidence that he simply had no other place to go.

Weeks ago, a letter was delivered to the dead Miranda Gilbert from none other than her own sister. John replied, rather awkwardly, that her sister had been dead for some time, and since no one had been able to track her down, they were unable to inform her. Now John stood between these two children whom he still felt were strangers to him, and looked at this woman, whom he had never even heard of. She gracefully exited the carriage with help from her driver, her solemn eyes looking up to the people in front of her as though she had known them long ago and they were simply being reunited. "Katherine, I presume?" John asked politely.

The woman, a vision in all black, broke into a smile upon hearing her name. "I'm so pleased to finally meet you all." And then solemnly, "I'm sorry it hasn't happened sooner."

John stepped forward, taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips before turning to face the children. "I'd like to introduce you to your nephew and niece, Jeremy and Elena."

Jeremy followed suit and kissed her hand before offering a reserved, but honest smile. It was Elena who hesitated, taken aback by how familiar she was. There were general similarities between her and her mother; they had the same color eyes and hair, but it was Elena who truly resembled Katherine. They both shared the same oval-shaped face and olive skin tone, but it was their almond-shaped eyes that truly mirrored one another. Elena offered an unsteady curtsy, never taking her eyes off of her aunt's face.

Katherine stepped forward confidently, gently grabbing Elena by the chin as if to assess her face further. "Now that is the face of a Pierce," she smirked.

-1-


	2. Chapter II

**Part I**

**Chapter II**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Damon sat on Elena's left now, with Jeremy at her right. Occasionally, she would brush her elbow up against his arm in an attempt to be closer to him, if only for a moment. He would smile briefly before sliding his knee up against hers under the table. Then, they would quickly draw away from each other, as if someone was about to look under the table to see their knees grazing one another. Stefan watched disapprovingly from across the table, and while Elena realized it could just be jealousy, she thought it was more likely that he thought it was inappropriate table manners. She met his gaze defiantly, relishing the thought of her rebellion either way. His eyes didn't linger for long though, as he quickly turned his attention to Katherine, with whom he spoke quietly.

At the head of the table, to Jeremy's right, was John, then Giuseppe, Katherine, and Stefan on the other side. William Forbes, the sheriff and John's close friend, sat across from Giuseppe. "You said you've been traveling," John addressed Katherine. "Whereabouts?"

"Well, when I received news that the war would likely come crashing through my own backyard, Emily and I packed up and headed across the Atlantic – to Europe." Katherine's ever-present handmaiden, who stood in the background, smiled as if to confirm the story. "We were in Spain for a few days, but most of the time was spent in France."

"Where did you stay?" Stefan politely interjected, looking at her intently. "Do you have family there?"

"We were seldom still in our travels," she smiled. "Going from one friend to the next."

"It was good of them to offer you sanctuary," John said.

"Oh, yes," she replied. "None of my travels would have ever been possible without those kind enough to invite me into their homes - like you all." Her eyes landed on each Gilbert individually, a silent thank you hanging in the space between them. "I never would have made myself so scarce, had I known…" The table hung their heads silently, just for a moment. It seemed bringing up the subject of Grayson and Miranda at the dinner table was just too unpleasant still. Emily shifted uncomfortably where she stood.

As if sensing the need to change the subject, John dropped the current one immediately, turning instead to the Sheriff. "William, have you any news about the missing woman? What was her name?"

William leaned back in his chair, a grim look on his face. "I believe it was Annabelle. Her family name isn't worth mentioning, but she was just a young girl. Only sixteen. A few men came across her body while they were hunting in the woods up north of here a few days ago." Katherine and Elena both set their forks down upon hearing this, as it was customary for women to be repulsed by such things, however, neither of them were repulsed as much as intrigued. The sheriff cleared his throat, glancing at them both. "But perhaps now is not the best to time to speak of such matters."

John nodded. "Of course, you're right. At least tell me you've caught the man responsible."

Katherine motioned for Emily to come pour her another glass of wine. "No, not a trace, and there is still another girl missing." Katherine kept her eyes cast on the table.

After dinner and brandy, the Sheriff parted with a warning – mostly directed at the ladies – to be careful and to never go anywhere alone. Damon made sure to kiss Elena's hand, offering a small smile and a wink before being pulled out of the door by his father. In Elena's hand was a small slip of paper, a note from Damon. She'd come to learn that Damon liked to pretend that their courtship was a secret affair that only they knew about. He said it made him feel like was living a great love as in _Romeo and Juliet_. The paper only held a hastily drawn picture of a rose, and the words, "Like our love, this flower shall never die." Elena could feel her cheeks flush as she folded the paper up. This latest drawing was a response to a conversation they had about a week ago; Elena lamented the idea of presenting of women with flowers when tearing them out of the ground was nothing more than a death sentence.

Katherine came up from behind her, snatching the white, little square from her fingers. "What have we here?"

Elena's eyes widened at her aunt, unsure of how to approach the unfamiliar woman. Forcing a playful smile, she reached out towards her, "Dear aunt, you would stoop to embarrass your loving niece this way?"

Katherine held the paper out of reach, "Would this happen to be from the broody little puppy that was just here?"

Elena smirked a little, "Which one?"

The two giggled and Katherine finally handed the piece of paper over without so much as glancing at it. "Just be careful; boys like that will just give you their attention to amuse themselves." Elena frowned at this, wanting to deny it, but knew there was no use. It seemed adults were always trying to warn her away from men, while simultaneously expecting her to find one and marry him quickly. "Will you go fetch your brother and bring him to my room? I want to speak with you both."

Elena followed her orders without a question, quickly retrieving Jeremy from his room. When the two arrived at their destination, Katherine was sitting in front of her mirror while Emily brushed her hair. With nothing but candlelight and the fading light of dusk to light her room, everyone's shadows danced on the walls.

She stood, quietly shutting the door and took a small box from her dresser. "I needed to speak with you without your uncle present," she started. "This matter doesn't concern him." They watched her move across the room without a word until she quietly ordered them to sit. Standing in front of them, she opened a little box revealing two silver rings. She placed one in each of their hands. "These rings have been in our family for centuries. They call me Pierce, but I am Petrova." Her tongue curled around the name as if she was speaking another language for a moment. "As was your mother. As are you. The Petrovas are an old bloodline, known for our resilience. These rings will bring you luck. I can't help think that if your mother had one, things might have been different."

Elena turned the ring over in her hand, but there weren't any significant markings on it that made it any different from any other ring. It was just a simple silver band, though rather fat for so dainty a finger as her own, she thought. "I know I may still be a stranger to you, but it'd make me feel better if you'd wear them."

Jeremy shrugged and slipped it on his finger, "Of course, Aunt Katherine."

Elena followed suit, "Thank you for this."

Katherine smiled, obviously pleased, before leaning in to look them both in the eyes. "_Now go to sleep, and do not mention this conversation to anyone_."

-2-


	3. Chapter III

**Part I**

**Chapter III**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Elena paced in front of the window, occasionally stopping to peel back the already open curtain to view the front lawn. Katherine sat idly by with a copy of _Great Expectations _open in her hands. "Sit down," she commanded without looking away from her book. "You're making me nervous."

Elena stopped in her tracks, looking to the floor with red cheeks before finding a seat in the chair next to her aunt. Jeremy smirked. "Whatever could have my dear sister acting such a fool? Is she expecting someone?" He and Katherine shared a smile.

"Of course not," she denied. "I'm just growing tired of being cooped up in this house."

"Would you like me to accompany you on a walk?"

"Oh, yes," Katherine agreed. "Some fresh air would be lovely. Perhaps I'll join you."

"No!" Elena jumped up, looking out at the green lawn again. They knew exactly who she was waiting on, and when she finally saw him approaching the house her heart skipped. He wore a contented smile as he eyed the pink and orange sky in the distance. "John!" she shouted, bouncing up the stairs.

She turned the corner to find John sitting at her father's old desk, an unmarked book in his hand. "What is it, dear?"

"Nothing," she shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I think they need you downstairs. I'll be in my room if you need me."

John smiled slightly, setting down his things and heading down the stairs. Even though his family was still so unfamiliar to him, it was not lost on him how good they were. Elena was a sun among moons, the source of light whether day or night. She was immature though. She would have to calm herself before she would be able to marry, but even with her hyperactivity she was a very marriageable young girl. Any of the number of families would love to welcome her into their home, and with the undeniable beauty her mother left with her, she would indeed enter into a good one. Jeremy, on the other hand, was rebellious and felt no inclination to follow his father's footsteps into the medical field. Still, he was well built and handsome, but his will outweighed every obstacle in his life and John hoped he would have the good luck to bring honor to his family somehow.

Just as he reached the bottom of the staircase, there was a loud knock at the front door. Once opened, Damon Salvatore greeted him with a smile. "Good evening, sir," he began, holding out his hand to John.

"Damon, come in."

"Oh, I'm afraid this isn't a social call. I was on my way to the post office," he lifted up the package wrapped in brown paper and secured by a string. "I thought Elena might want to join me on the walk there."

This had become the weekly norm. Every Tuesday Damon would stroll up the walkway with some small task he needed to do in town. Saying he knew how Elena liked the fresh air, he would casually ask if she could accompany him. It was clever; this way they could have alone time together, but still be accountable and therefore, trustworthy. John could easily find out if they were lying, which was comforting to him, since he liked to know he was still in control.

"I don't know," John sighed, casting a smirk to the floor. "It's a little late."

Damon tried to mask the defeated look in his eyes, holding on to the faltering smile as hard as he could. "Of course. I suppose I should have come earlier."

"Don't be so mean, John." Katherine came up behind him, smiling. "You'll scare him off."

Damon looked up to them both with wide, questioning eyes. "I'm sure I don't understand."

"He's only joking with you, right John?"

The older man laughed, taking Damon's hand once again. "I do prefer you bring her home before sundown. That killer is still on the loose, you know."

Damon sighed, relieved. "Of course, sir."

"Elena!" John called. "You have a caller!"

As John had his back turned, Damon looked at Katherine, who was already staring intently at him. She took one of his hands in one of hers and placed a small envelope in his palm. Before he could question what was happening, he realized he could not look anywhere but her eyes. "_Give this to Stefan when you return home_," she ordered quietly. He slid the paper into his pocket casually. He mustn't forget that he had a note to deliver to Stefan once he got home.

Elena finally came out from her hiding place behind the wall, descending the stairs as gracefully as she could manage. She kept her chin high and her chest out, but she still stumbled a little on the top step. Damon's face didn't give away that he noticed. She knew her face should only show a note of reserved happiness to see him, but she could feel it looked more like she was chomping down on her bottom lip to keep from smiling too broadly. She couldn't help it. With Damon, she felt a tightening in her chest that made it hard to breathe, as though all the happiness he gave her was trying to be felt at once. He looked so handsome, waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her. His navy blue suit fit just as it should, but his hair was tousled, with the whole mess of it brushed off to the side. He had a much easier time hiding his happiness, with only his wide eyes giving away any feeling other than contentment.

He took her hand to assist her down the last few steps before pressing her fingers against his lips. "Miss Elena," he smiled.

"Damon," she replied.

"You look lovelier than the time I saw you last."

"Or perhaps your eyesight is getting better."

He chuckled, taking her light blue shawl from her hands and draping it over her shoulders.

After they left, they walked silently for a moment while the Gilbert estate was close, looping their arms through the other's and enjoying the beautiful colors in the sky.

-3-

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><p><em>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Am I on a cloud or did I just write an enormous amount of FLUFF? Anyways, thank you all for reading. xo<em>


	4. Chapter IV

**Part I**

**Chapter IV**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Upon returning home, Damon immediately went to out seek Stefan. He wasn't in his room, so he knew there was only one other place he could be. Sure enough, Giuseppe and Stefan sat in the former's study, both speaking quietly. Without another thought on his mind, Damon entered abruptly. "Stefan," he said.

His father looked at him like a fly that was too fast to swat with the paper. "We're speaking, Damon."

"It's important," Damon said, although he couldn't say why it was important - because he wasn't quite sure. All he knew was he had to do this.

"It'll still be important in the morning then," his father responded. He stood up from his chair, as if challenging his son. Stefan watched, uneasily standing as well.

Damon blankly moved towards Stefan, going as far as he could around his father. His arm held the note out to Stefan, but before it could reach his brother, his father aggressively moved towards him. Strong hands came down on his chest, knocking him into the wall and, for a moment, out of his stupor. "You'll just do anything to disobey me, won't you?" Again Giuseppe slammed his hands into his son's chest, this time grabbing at his coat and a bit of the flesh on his chest in order to raise him to his feet. He slammed him into the wall once, the hinge of the door pinching Damon's back, but he could only look at Stefan. When Giuseppe finally let go, he just handed the note to his brother. It wasn't until a second after that he seemed to realize what was going on around him. "You want me to behave like this? Is that what you want, son?"

Damon's confused eyes went between the men in front of him, one concerned and the other cold. "I really needed to deliver that to Stefan," Damon explained, even though now it didn't make sense to him anymore.

Giuseppe advanced towards Damon again, knocking him on the side of his head with his fist. "You need to obey!" he roared.

At that, Stefan stepped forward, taking the baffled Damon into his arms. Looking back to his father, he forced a smile on his face, "We're going to bed now, father. Sleep well."

Once safe in his own room, Damon put his head in his hands. When Stefan asked what was wrong with him, he realized he had no idea; he couldn't remember. "What's the note?" Damon asked after a moment of silence.

He looked down at the small piece of paper, turning it around in his hands. Once he unfolded it, nothing short of a smile hit him like a ton of bricks. "It's from Katherine."

"Right! Katherine!" Damon knew that somehow. "What's it say?"

"Nothing."

"Has she confessed her love for you, brother?" He smirked.

"It's just flirtation," he suppressed a smile.

"But what would Father say?" Damon pressed, his face turning sour. "Nothing, of course. You could marry our cow and it still wouldn't taint your status as the favorite."

Stefan sighed, "We both know old Betty was too good for me."

Damon laughed out loud, falling back on his soft bed. From the way his torso and back ached, he could tell he was not in good shape, although the pain was manageable. Perhaps they were only bruises this time; he couldn't feel any open wounds. However, it felt like his heart was in his head by the way it throbbed. "What were you and father talking about?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

"I'll always believe you, brother."

-4-


	5. Chapter V

**Part I**

**Chapter V**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Damon and Elena walked arm and arm through the Salvatore's maze-like garden. Jeremy walked behind close enough to see them, but not to hear them if they lowered their voices. "I have to tell you something," Elena said, glancing back at her brother.

Damon's eyes remained set ahead of him. He didn't want to alert her, but her elbow was digging into his bruised side, and it was all he could do not to cry out. The pain seeped through his abdomen, but he didn't want to distance himself from her. "Yes?"

She hesitated, thinking very carefully on how to word it. "Before I tell you, you must swear yourself to secrecy. You mustn't tell anyone. Not even Stefan."

He grinned. "Of course. I wouldn't think of it."

She glanced back at Jeremy again to make sure he was still a reasonable distance. Although he was acting as their escort, he had brought along an old telescope to play with, and was paying neither of them any attention. "I'm worried about my uncle. He's been behaving strangely."

"Strangely how?" Damon knew now what she was about to tell him. When they spoke the other night, Stefan had told him the founders were getting together almost daily. They were under the impression that something was amiss in Mystic Falls - something dark. When a few of the missing people turned up after they had been drained of their blood, John Gilbert brought some of his brother's old books to Mayor Benjamin Lockwood. Of course he had curiously read through a few of them when he'd arrived at the estate, but he never dreamed they'd actually be useful. They contained hundreds of passages about ancient demons that fed on the lives of humans. There were stories of cities and empires being caught in an invisible plague - bloodless dead bodies piling up in the streets. John had taken a big risk showing them to Benjamin, but he was easy to convince. The mayor called for the founders of the town to gather, and they'd been meeting ever since.

"He's been hidden away in my father's study, missing meals, sleeping during the day. It's so much like when my father was –" She stopped short, her eyes falling to the ground.

He yearned to wrap his arms around her. He imagined her head would fit in the crook of his shoulder nicely. Perhaps she would finally be close enough for him could inhale the perfume that clung to her skin. Perhaps she would look up at him with that sweet look she got now and then, that look that made him feel he wasn't supposed to be anywhere else, and perhaps he could even kiss her. He would do anything to take that sadness from her eyes. Instead, he pulled her closer to his side and lowered his voice further. "I know what's going on, but Stefan can tell you more than I."

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Stefan knows about my uncle?"

"John and our father have got on rather well, as I hear it. They believe they may be on to something involved with the murder."

Now Elena was truly confused. She believed her uncle was going mad just as her father had, but now it had become about the murder. She listened carefully as Damon confided in her everything he knew about vampires. It was ridiculous, of course. That Damon would even tell her made her think that he wasn't taking her seriously.

She looked at the ground as they walked. "Now I am certain you are playing a joke on me."

"No!" he assured her, trying to keep quiet. "Please, I am telling you everything I know."

She looked into his eyes, searching to see if anything but the truth lay behind those blue orbs, but his expression was earnest as he gazed into her face. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "I'm just confused."

"Will it make you feel better if I ask Stefan for more information, Miss Elena?"

"I need to know everything."

-5-


	6. Chapter VI

**Part I**

**Chapter VI**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Just as the town of Mystic Falls thought the sun had forever disappeared behind a wall of gray clouds, the sun made a glorious return. It was high in the sky as Stefan made his way across the still green grass of the Gilbert's lawn, a lifeless leaf crunching under his foot now and again. He squinted against the light, but didn't shy away from the heat that enveloped him. It had been so long since he had felt the sun on his face and it made him feel as though he was glowing from within. It seemed that, until that day, all the happiness had been drained from the town. Mothers forbade their children from going to school, shop owners had 'closed' signs in their windows, and absolutely no one wandered around at night. It was lonely and quiet in the streets now, but with the sun shining down on him, he could pretend the sunshine was happiness, the warmth that had long since disappeared from the town.

He couldn't help but think his happiness was coming from something else, as well. Just a few more steps and he would get to see Katherine. For weeks, they'd been secretly sending each other letters that confessed to each other their blossoming affections, meeting in out-of-the-way places, but it wasn't until just yesterday she'd finally sent him a formal invitation to tea. He hadn't said anything to his father, and not even Damon, for he knew this was rather scandalous. She was too old for him - far too old to marry. Stefan had never asked, but she must have been at least twenty-five. It wouldn't be proper. He'd often dreamed of running off with her, going somewhere where everyone was a stranger to them. They could marry and live on a farm, and she could still try to give him a baby. In his dreams Damon would be there too, partly because he couldn't be happy without his best friend, but mostly, there was Katherine.

He'd been so lost in his thoughts it surprised him when he heard the door open. It was Emily who greeted him. "I'm here for Miss Katherine," he said, stumbling over his words. She smirked as though she were looking at a little puppy begging for scraps at the dinner table, but opened the door without a word.

Katherine sat in the parlor, her eyes trained at the door when he walked in. She stood, a smile on her face, but didn't move from her place. "Good afternoon, Mr. Salvatore."

He approached, a little too quickly, giving a small bow in response to her curtsy. "Good afternoon."

"Please sit," she said, following her own directions. Perched on her chair, she looked like a queen right out of a painting. Not a hair was out of place and the hoopskirt of her dress fell perfectly around her, the lace moving slightly with the warm breeze coming in through the window. He felt all the air left his body, as though he couldn't focus as long as she was this beautiful. A young girl entered the room with a tray in her hands, and placed it on the table. Just as she started to pick up the teapot, Katherine held up her hand. The girl didn't even look up; she blankly straightened and went to stand by the door. Stefan eyed the corpse-like girl - only slightly uncomfortable - before turning back to Katherine. "I'm sure you're curious about why I would ask you here like this." She picked up the teapot now and poured the steaming liquid into both each cup. She then handed Stefan his cup.

He nodded, taking a small sip.

"I also have a feeling that your family, as well as mine, would not be happy to know of the affection I have for you."

He went cold, fearing she had only called on him to tell him they couldn't go on as they had before. He nodded slowly.

She placed her cup back on its saucer on the table. There was a moment of silence, filled only with the sound of two ticking clocks. One was only slightly ahead of the other, creating a disorienting noise that repeated over and over. _Ti-Tick. Ti-Tick. Ti-Tick. _Finally, Katherine sighed. "I want you to know that I have no intention of ending our relationship, Stefan." She stood, holding back her skirts to sit on the couch next to him. Relieved, he brushed her hair away before gently kissing her shoulder. "You see, Stefan, I always get what I want, and I very much want you."

He breathed her in, so relieved by her words. Visions of her flashed before his eyes: the perfect Katherine with her hair loosely pulled back, locks falling in her eyes as she played with a little boy. He'd have her eyes, he'd have her everything. In the corner, there would be a crib and he could hear the coos of a little girl. _Perfect. _The feeling of her hand in his hair finally drew him out of the thought, "My father will never approve. We'll have to run away."

She laughed and gently pushed him away. "That will not be a problem because I don't want anyone to know about this."

"Why?"

"There is something you have to learn about a girl like me. I get by with the help of a few things, and one of those things is lonely men with large pockets, and it doesn't mean anything to any of them if they think they'll have an angry lover coming after them."

He stirred at this, scowling. "You don't need those men if you have me."

She frowned, forcing his eyes to find hers. "I have other ways of getting what I want, Stefan. Ways you don't understand yet, but you'll understand this: _in public, you are nothing more than a boy with a tenderness for a beautiful woman_."

His eyes were blank. "You are beautiful, Katherine."

She smirked, "I know. Now, there is something else I need from you."

"Anything."

"Get Sarah," she called without looking back. The girl who had brought their tea disappeared for a moment before promptly returning with another girl. She was slightly older, but they wore their hair alike and had the same skin tone. _Sisters_, he thought. "This is Sarah," Katherine continued. "She is a very important friend of mine."

He nodded politely towards her, but she only looked ahead with the same dreamy look as her sister. Katherine, however, stared at him intently as she took the girl's hand into hers, slipping her sleeve up her arm. Now he was confused, but she wouldn't say a word. Instead, she raised her girl's wrist to her mouth. At first he thought she was kissing it, until he saw a small drop of blood run down her chin. Katherine's eyes were dark red and he could see the veins pulsing in her face. He stumbled backwards, the sight making bile rise in his throat. Now his visions of Katherine were stained with blood, the crib was turned over and a pale little boy hung limp in his arms. He turned on his heels, ready to run, but Katherine was already in front of him. "_You're calm_," she said, the pupils in her eyes shrinking. "_You don't want to run. You feel just the same about me as you did before_."

He felt his pulse slow down and he slowly got back on his feet. "I don't understand."

"Sit," she ordered. "You see, I'm one of those big, bad monsters your father has talked about."

"You're the one who has been killing people?"

"Unfortunately, no. Sarah keeps me fed so I don't do silly things like that. Whoever is killing all of those people must be a new vampire. Someone as old as I am wouldn't do something so foolish." She guided him back to his seat and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "That's what I need you for." She grabbed his handkerchief from its pocket and offered it to Sarah. "I don't want her blood anymore. I want yours." He looked down at his wrist. Everything was so muddled now. He was calm, but he was very scared. His instincts were telling him to run, but his mind was telling him to stay. She followed his gaze down, running her fingers over his skin.

"What if I say no?"

For a moment he feared she would be angry, but she never flinched. "If you say no, then I'll ask you to leave and I won't see you anymore. I'll make sure you don't remember this, and I'll let you go on to find another woman - one your father would approve of."

He frowned at that thought. "You won't let me see you anymore."

"Not even when I leave, will I want you to say goodbye."

Then, he made his decision and he offered his wrist to her without thinking about it another second. She smiled, grasped his hand with hers and wrapped her mouth around his wrist. He flinched. For some reason, he thought it wouldn't hurt; Sarah hadn't even made a noise. Now he felt the sharp bite in his veins and his heartbeat in the tips of his fingers. When she was finished, there were only two tiny holes on his wrist. She ducked down to catch his lips with hers, taking him by surprise. "With everyone looking for someone like me, I can't leave you with a nasty bite like this one."

Once again, he was confused - and light-headed. "What do I do?"

She raised her opposite wrist to her mouth, taking a small bite and offering it to him. "Let's play copycat."

-6-

* * *

><p><em>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Finally, a longer chapter! I originally wasn't planning on Stefan and Katherine's relationship playing such a big role, but like most things in this story, that changed. ;)<em>

_As always, thank you for reading. xo_


	7. Chapter VII

**Part I**

**Chapter VII**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls**

Stefan sat back, wiping the blood from his mouth. He hadn't been as graceful as Katherine in his effort to take her blood and he struggled to keep it from dripping on his clothes. He watched as the holes on this wrist slowly closed, and tried to understand everything he was feeling. He felt full, as if he had just eaten an entire meal. It felt as if every nerve in his body had begun to move inside of him; it was as though he was going to vibrate out of his chair. His teeth chattered and he felt as he did when he was scared, with the bottom of his spine tingling and twitching. It was like someone lit a fire under him and he needed to move around. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling – he just couldn't stop smiling. It was as though he had never been alive until that moment. He stood up and began to pace back and forth.

Katherine giggled, "How do you feel?"

He swung around to meet her gaze, "Like I could do anything!"

"Can you come sit next to me?"

He was too restless to sit still, but he wanted so much to be near Katherine all the time. He forced himself down where he was sitting before. She took his hand once more and placed a gentle kiss on the spot where she had bitten. "Thank you."

God, she was so beautiful. When he looked at her he swore he could feel a tremor run through his ribcage. He looked at her for a moment before he couldn't sit still for another second longer. It was anything but gentle when he smashed his lips into hers. He was clumsy, unpracticed, but she was so perfect that he didn't feel anything but grateful she was there in front of him. He felt her smile against his lips and it brought back the warmth he felt outside. He'd never kissed anyone before. He had only once kissed Elena on the cheek, but it didn't feel right. It didn't feel like this.

Too soon, she gently pushed him away, and he looked as if he was coming out of a haze. She grabbed his face, forcing his eyes to land on hers. "_I need you to focus, Stefan. I only need one more thing_."

Suddenly, his vision cleared and the fog dissipated in his head. He nodded beneath her grip.

"_I need to know everything your father knows_."

This confused him. Surely his father knew a lot – he was an educated man. There was too much for him to tell her. His father knew how to whittle and he could break a horse. There was the entirety of his education, and of course he knew all about Mystic F-

"Specifically," she sighed, bringing him from his thoughts, "about vampires." Now he understood; vampires are what his father had referred to as 'them'. "Do they have any suspects?"

"There's a cabin out in the woods. A freeman lives there alone."

"Anyone else?"

"They are compiling a list of everyone they have seen walking in the daylight, but it is taking some time."

She sighed and looked down for a moment. _They don't know anything. _"Can they kill a vampire?"

"If you stake a vampire in the heart, it will die."

"Do they know of vervain?"

He tried to nod again and she realized she was still holding his face. She released him before he spoke. "They've begun buying large quantities from an apothecary in town."

"What are they going to do with it?"

"They're hiding it in things that vampire could potentially touch; perfumes, liquor, food. They'll know who's a vampire if it burns them."

She rolled her eyes. At least they weren't wearing it, or worse, ingesting it. "_If anyone asks you to drink vervain, you must tell me_."

"Why?"

"Because, it could hurt me if it's in your blood."

He shook his head furiously, "I won't hurt you, I promise."

She took his hand in hers and patted it softly. "Of course not, darling. Now, where are they getting all of this information?"

"John Gilbert has a stash of books. Most of the information is useless, but there is one book that has been especially helpful. It's a journal. They say he got it from one of the founding fathers."

"Did he? And where do they keep this journal."

"John keeps all the information in his brother's study. Only he has the key, so they're safe."

"Safe as they can be when I'm around."

-7-


	8. Chapter VIII

**Part I**

**Chapter VIII**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Katherine looked down the empty hall. She had compelled Elena and Jeremy to stay in their rooms, but she couldn't risk trying to compel John if he had vervain; there was always a chance he could have it on him. He'd been speaking to Mr. Salvatore in the parlor, but she couldn't get the door to Grayson's office open without making noise. The two men carried on below her.

"_We can't go on like this John._"

The sun had gone down and their conversation had sped up, Mr. Salvatore was obviously in a hurry to get home.

Katherine smiled. Though she wasn't the direct cause for their fear, it made her happy in some way that her own kind had struck fear into the hearts of these men. They were born with only one job: to live. Now, they faced adversity; something threatened their easy existence. They were scared, in a way, of her. They didn't know it, and she wanted to keep it that way, but it filled her with joy to think of the look in their eyes should she ever decide to kill them.

She tried the door handle, but it wouldn't budge and made more noise then she was comfortable with when she shook it. She needed to get to those books and destroy the available information before they became too familiar with it. Just as she was considering sneaking outside and breaking in through the window, she realized the conversation had ceased and footsteps were making their way up the hall. She flew back further into the hall and waited until the footsteps evened out. As John made his way down the hall, she casually began walking towards him. "I was just coming to remind Mr. Salvatore of the time," she lied. "The sun goes down quickly these days."

He smiled awkwardly, "No need to worry."

As they came to meet in front of his office door, she thought she would try something just once. Focusing as hard as she could without being obvious, she looked deep into his eyes. "_It's rather cold, isn't it_?"

In actuality, it was incredibly hot. A fire was burning in every room to ward off the impending cold and offered light against the dark. She could see sweat forming on his brow, but she just needed to hear his answer. "Indeed," his body shook a little. "I might sleep with an extra blanket tonight."

She was so relieved that she smiled. As of yet, they knew that vervain was a weapon against vampires, but they had no idea how else it would protect them. "That's a good idea, but first, _could you unlock the study_?"

He looked ahead blankly, fishing in his pockets for the keys. Katherine smirked; what was this man compared to her? He was dough in her hands, raw meat in her eyes. _Pathetic_, she thought. He unlocked the door and looked back to her dreamily. "_Now, go to bed and forget this ever happened_."

He nodded and walked the rest of the way to his room without looking back. Katherine entered the room quietly, shutting the door behind her. The room was a mess. There were books upon books strewn across the floor. Some were open and some were closed, stacks started from the floor and towered above her head. Her stomach dipped. She expected a few books on the supernatural, maybe a copy of _The Vampyre_, but nothing like this. There was literature, journals, and pieces of parchment covering every inch of the room. She could never go through it all… there was a glimmer of hope before, that she could find their source and toy with it. She would have every man in town wearing a frilly skirt if they thought it would protect them. But there was too much to go through now. She took a deep breath to focus herself. There were a few things she needed to do.

First, she went to Elena's room. The girl was sitting on her bed, staring off into space just as she had left her. She looked her in the eyes. "_Go downstairs. Wait by the door. I'll come for you_."

Elena nodded.

After she had done the same to Jeremy, she made her way to John's room. She could hear him stirring on the inside. She wrapped her fingers around the doorknob and squeezed. The metal squeaked quietly in protest, but bent easily in her hands. She twisted until it finally broke off.

With that, she grabbed a candle and a lantern that sat in the hallway and carried it back to the study. She didn't stop to think once her decision was made. Instead, she held the flame to every thing she could: first, to the open books, and then to the curtains. She stepped back from the fire, weary of the heat, but once the curtains had gone up in flames the rest didn't stand a chance. She took one more second to admire her handiwork before throwing the lantern in the center of the room.

She walked calmly down the stairs, but she could already feel the smoke fill her lungs. When she looked up, she could see a dark cloud hovering over her. Jeremy and Elena stood before the door; they were coughing, but didn't move from where they stood. She put her hands on their shoulders to get their attention but brought a finger to her lips to keep them quiet. She wanted to wait just a bit longer before the poor Gilbert family came running helplessly out of their burning home. She could hear John in a fit of coughs above them, but it only made her smile.

When her niece and nephew couldn't bear it any longer, and their eyes filled with tears and their coughs become nothing more than wheezes, she finally decided it was time. "_Jeremy, you woke up to smoke and came looking for us when you realized something was burning. You woke your sister, then me, and brought us downstairs_." Her pupils returned to normal and she opened the door. "_Now run_."

-8-


	9. Chapter IX

**Part I**

**Chapter IX**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Elena woke slowly. It felt as though she had been suspended somewhere between alive and dead for days. Her lungs burned slightly and she struggled to fill them all the way with air. She smelled something burning, but she didn't want to open her eyes. She wanted to be unconscious, blissfully unaware of the pain in her lungs and in her hips. Instead, she forced her eyes open. She was buried in a pile of soft fabric, lurking so deep under it all that she couldn't see anything but the ceiling above her. Light jumped across the ceiling, likely a result of whatever she heard burning. She sat up and a fire crackled in the fireplace to her left, but it wasn't like her fireplace… or any fireplace in her home. This one was made of white marble with gold accents; her own was made of clay bricks. The room was a sullen gray color, marked with dark oak furniture. Pretty, she thought, but unfamiliar.

Just as she was about to investigate further, she heard someone at the door. It opened slowly and only just a sliver. A foot slid in first followed by a body, and then wavy black hair. Damon didn't look at her at first; he looked back and forth down the hallway before closing the door quietly. She sat there with wide eyes, watching him, as he slowly turned around to face her. He jumped a little when he realized she was awake. "Elena!" He almost forgot to whisper.

"Where am I?"

He rushed to her side, sitting on the bed. "How are you?"

"Where am I?" The question was pointed this time.

"The Salvatore estate. We brought your family here after the fire."

The fire. Now she remembered… or she barely remembered. One minute she was getting ready for bed, the last rays of sunlight still coming through her window, and the next she was running out of her front door, tripping over her nightgown onto the yard. Jeremy held tightly to her arm, stumbling and tripping just as she had. Katherine was right behind them, shrieking as loud as she could.

Flames danced behind the windows in Elena's room, but they were jumping out of the window in Jeremy's room. Elena felt tears falling down her face, but she didn't cry out as Katherine did. Soon she heard shouts in the distance. The Fells were running up the road; noise came out of their mouths, but Elena couldn't understand what they were saying. Katherine waved furiously, "Help! Please help!"

Then there were shouts coming from the other side of her. The Salvatore family, along with their stable boy, came running up the road as well. Each of the brothers had a rifle strapped to his back. Katherine saw Stefan running towards her, but she glared at him. _Not now_, she thought. He hesitated, falling behind his brother and father. Damon, however, ran straight to Elena. He grabbed her face and tried to get her to focus on his eyes, but she wouldn't focus on anything. "Elena? Elena, are you all right?"

Only one thought came to her mind and she finally looked at him. "Uncle John. Where is Uncle John?"

"Where is John?" Damon called, looking around frantically. "Where's John Gilbert?"

Katherine had to hide a smile. "He must still be inside."

Elena shook her head, and tears continued to spill down her face. Uncle John was not close to her, and they did not share any fondness toward each other, but he was family. Elena had already lost too many loved ones too early, and now her uncle was being burned alive. Damon watched her for a moment. Each tear that fell down her face made his insides hurt. He took her face in his hands once more and kissed her softly on the lips. It wasn't as he had always imagined. It wasn't to show his affection. He couldn't smell her perfume, only the smoke in the air. She didn't run her fingers through his hair. It was nothing more than a promise. In those few seconds he promised that he loved her, that he would do anything for her. Once he pulled away, she looked up at him, a silent question in her eyes.

Without explaining, he turned and ran to the house. The growing crowd called after him, but he didn't falter. Stefan watched in horror as his brother ran into the burning building, and before he knew it, he was running too.

"Stefan!" Katherine yelled. It was a slip up, but no one seemed to notice.

Stefan found Damon standing at a door at the end of the hallway, covering his mouth and nose with his handkerchief. "Damon?"

"The handle is missing."

The door had a hole in the very center. "Did you try to kick it in?"

"I think he did. Look." Stefan looked through the hole. John Gilbert's body was curled up on the floor. A wall to his left was ablaze and smoke-filled the room, slowly filtering out through the hole. The brothers took turns smashing into the door, but it became more difficult the longer they inhaled the smoke. Stefan paused, hunching over to cough. Damon made one final kick where the doorknob used to be. The wood splintered beneath his foot and the door finally swung open. He didn't have time to be relieved now; it looked like his brother was dying and felt like he was too.

He bent down and grabbed John by his underarms. "Stefan," he grunted. "Stefan, come."

They made a slow and clumsy escape, the entire structure of the house groaning under their feet as they went. Damon looked into the rooms as they passed. One looked to be the study, the giant flames that erupted forcing him and Stefan to cling to the wall when they passed. Another, he assumed, was Elena's. The soft pink wallpaper was turning brown from the ground up as the flames licked at the walls. What was left of the champagne colored curtains billowed above the fire. All of her things were caught in the heat and he wished he could save something, but her uncle would have to do.

He practically threw the man on the ground once they made down the front steps of the porch.

Elena shook her head, coming back to the present. Damon still sat before her, worry etched on his face. "You saved my uncle," she sighed, throwing her arms over his shoulders.

He smiled, burying his face in the hair on her shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around her torso. "How are you?" he mumbled into her.

She pulled back, tucking a loose tendril behind her ear, "I'm tired… and my chest hurts, but I will survive."

"You fainted, you know," he smirked. Her cheeks turned red; that was not something she remembered. "One minute, you were standing before me and the next you were as stiff as a board, falling backwards."

She was embarrassed, but it explained the throbbing in her hip. "Mr. Salvatore," she exclaimed. "You didn't catch a lady in need?"

"Please don't be angry with me," he chuckled. "I didn't make it much longer until I, too, was unconscious."

She intertwined his fingers with his, "And my uncle?"

"Sleeping," he answered, looking down at her soft hands. "The doctor says he will recover, with time."

She closed her eyes, pleading with herself not to cry. "And my home?"

He paused, weighing the words carefully. "Gone."

She nodded, the muscles in her face forcing her to frown, but she willed the tears back. "Where will we go, Damon?"

"You are exactly where you belong," he smiled. "With me."

-9-


	10. Chapter X

**Part I**

**Chapter X**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Elena shifted uncomfortably at the dinner table. The ugly yellow fabric of her dress was too loose on her arms and too thick at her torso. She wriggled in an attempt to relieve the chafed skin under her arms, but it only made it worse. Some of the wives of the Council – that's what they called themselves now, the Founder's Council – had donated dresses they no longer wanted to the poor homeless women of the Gilbert estate. John and Jeremy also wore ill-fitting clothes, borrowed from Stefan and Damon's closets, no doubt. John had spent the last few days frantically trying to salvage whatever was left of the rubble, ensuring that the Gilbert's finances were in order, and making plans to rebuild the main house. He'd done all of this from his bed, only leaving for meals. It made him meaner than before. Jeremy spent his days moping; all the trinkets and memories of his mother and father were gone. They were all gone, every single piece of them. Katherine was using all of her time and energy ensuring Stefan kept a respectable distance in the light of day, and that wasn't easy. As her family went through all of this, Elena could only think about one thing. _Why are these clothes so damned uncomfortable?_

Katherine placed a hand on her shoulder so she would be still, but kept her eyes on John. "It's as if they have never built anything before!" he exclaimed.

Giuseppe set his drink down. "Well, how long do they think it will take?"

"The man I spoke to couldn't say. I told him he should have it figured out before spring ends."

"Well, you're always welcome in my home."

John smiled, raising his glass. "You've been a savior to us."

Giuseppe tipped his head, "It is nothing." He looked to Elena who was still squirming. "Now, when are you girls planning on getting new dresses?"

"Elena and I have a fitting tomorrow," Katherine said. "Honoria Fell promised entirely new wardrobes at an honest price."

John snorted, finishing his drink. "We'll be lucky if we can even afford a house after she's done with us."

Elena ducked her head apologetically, but Katherine held her ground. "I've offered to pay, John. You can still accept."

"Nonsense. I can't let a lady go bankrupt over some silly dresses."

She felt heat rise in her cheeks and willed herself not to roll her eyes.

Sensing the tension, Giuseppe stood. "May I have your attention, everyone? Yes, good. I'm afraid I forgot to mention the good news to you all. He raised a hand towards Damon, "Stand up, son." Stefan shifted uncomfortably. His father had called his brother a lot of things, but "son" was not usually one of them. Elena looked up to Damon who stood up beside her; he too looked uncomfortable. "Go on, tell them."

Damon looked guiltily down at Elena, but she smiled to comfort him. He hadn't planned on telling her like this. "I-I… I wasn't planning on having it come out like this."

"Spit it out," his father growled.

"I'll be leaving for the war soon," he finally announced. "I'll be joining the Confederacy within the month."

His father let out a delighted chuckle, "Isn't it wonderful?"

Elena's eyes darkened and she tried to mask the horror on her face, only offering an awkward grimace. She felt acid rise up in her throat and stiffened as though she would crawl out of her skin. She'd heard so many stories of men leaving and never returning. How could he leave now? If there was any announcement he needed to make, it was of their engagement, which hadn't happened either. Now he was deserting her. Her chair groaned as she slid it across the floor, "Please excuse me. I'm not feeling well."

Damon looked to his father who only glared defiantly back. The tension was thick in the air. "I should go check on the lady," he sighed. "Excuse me."

He found Elena sitting on the bed in her current room, tears streaming down her face and her skirts billowing around her. She smiled sadly at him. "I'm sorry I left in the midst of your good news."

"You think it's good news?"

"Of course. Soldiers bring great honor to their families back home. It is an honor to have even known your courage."

"You speak as though I am already dead."

"Aren't you?"

He frowned, "I had no choice."

"Aren't you a man?" she seethed, ripping herself from his side. "Don't you have any say in your own life?"

He shook his head, "As much say as you do, my lady."

"How can you leave me here alone? I'll have no one."

"You have your brother."

"There is talk of a betrothal between him and Victoria Donavan. Next year he'll be old enough to enlist as well, and then what?"

"You have Katherine."

"I know her about as well as my uncle, and I barely know him."

"I'll write to you."

She was pacing back and forth now, her tears coming from anger. "My dearest Elena," she mocked. "I had my arm blown off on the battlefield today, but there is no need to fret; I still have my writing hand."

"You're being morbid."

"Good news though," she continued as if she hadn't heard him. "My lieutenant says that the infection will kill me off long before a union soldier can, so at least I'll die with a morsel of dignity."

At that, he stood, grabbing her by the shoulders. She struggled against him, but he was far too strong for her to escape. She was sobbing now. "Elena," he whispered. "Elena, please listen." She was slamming her fists into his chest, the thought of losing him becoming too much to bear. He'd run in to a burning building to save her uncle, so how could he so carelessly throw his own life away? And for nothing? When she'd finally given up, he pulled her into his chest, running his fingers through her curly hair. "I promise to come back. Do you hear me? I won't be gone forever."

-10-


	11. Chapter XI

**Part I**

**Chapter XI**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Damon stood patiently next to his brother at the bottom of their staircase. Unlike Stefan, he was nervous. Elena was still furious with him, but she would soon be forced to face him once again. Even though the sun was still high in the sky, the first Founder's Ball was officially underway. John and Jeremy had left earlier than the rest, but Katherine insisted she "absolutely could not be one of the first at the party," so the Salvatore brothers volunteered to stay behind and escort the ladies. Stefan ran a hand through his hair and readjusted his suit for the hundredth time, but he didn't seem nervous so much as excited. Every opportunity to see Katherine was always cut too short, but now he could parade her around in the light of day – literally. It was not customary to hold an event like this at such an early hour, but the council couldn't allow the unarmed and blissfully ignorant citizens to walk outside without the sunlight to protect them.

The boys straightened at the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floors above them. Katherine came first, almost covered from head to toe in red fabric. Her gloves were made of the same black lace that covered her corset, and her curly brown hair was pulled up high with little, ruby-tipped pins. Suggestive, Elena had commented, but Katherine didn't care. She wanted to evoke that intrigue in men; she wanted them to want her. She wanted them to fear how much they wanted her. What was "suggestive" to Elena was power to Katherine.

Elena was quite the opposite in lustrous purple fabric and white lace. She chose the widest skirt she had in her wardrobe to make sure that Damon could only come so close. That being said, she didn't have much choice; the war had cut off Honoria Fell's usually constant supply of textiles from the north, so she could only deliver a few dresses to Elena and her aunt. The seamstress even showed the two a collection of old curtains, to see if they liked any of the fabric. Katherine wouldn't have it, however, Elena thought it was such a clever notion to make the old and unwanted new again.

When Damon finally caught sight of her, he felt every breath leave his body. Her sleeves bared her shoulders and he berated himself when he found himself thinking about how it would feel to pull the fabric farther down her soft skin. Her curls cascaded freely down her back and bounced with every step she took. She looked straight ahead, trying to look natural and feel her way down the steps. It wasn't a graceful effort. Even as she reached the bottom and Damon took her hand, her eyes remained forward. "You look beautiful," he said quietly.

"Mr. Salvatore," she said, too loud. "If you have taught me anything, it is that I am beautiful. You say it so often, I almost wish I was ugly."

The jab hurt, but his smile never faltered. "The sun would sooner set forever."

She chanced a look at him for only a second, keeping the scowl steady on her face. He looked as handsome as always, his face earnest in spite of her callousness. It bothered her.

"We should go," Katherine said, looping her arm through Stefan's.

The party was already in full swing by the time they arrived. Of course there were the Founders and their families, other members of the council, and some of the more important citizens – doctors, shop owners, and the newspaper editor. It was quite the soiree, but even with the windows open it was too hot. Katherine only felt slightly annoyed; whoever this mystery vampire was, he was becoming a sincerely large nuisance to her. It was too early and too hot for the heavy fabric of an evening gown, but here she was, like a fool. She could only be grateful she didn't sweat.

Elena fanned herself furiously, but it felt as though she were already glistening. The more annoyed she looked, the more she looked like Katherine.

Just as she finished her first glass of champagne, Damon caught her eye. He stood at a respectable distance, but once she even barely acknowledged him, he approached her. "Would you join me for a dance?"

She wanted so badly to say no, but it wasn't polite, and he was her escort, after all. She wanted to let him know that she was still angry with him. She wanted him to reconsider. Instead of saying all of this, she silently offered her hand. It was the waltz, so it should have been easy, but she struggled to keep up. Damon practically carried her throughout the dance, yet she still found herself stumbling against him.

"I will be leaving soon," he said to her dismay. "Will you still hate me then?"

"I don't hate you, of course."

"What if I call you beautiful?" he joked.

"I'm sorry for what I said, but you can't imagine how it hurts me to think of your departure."

"It will bring honor to my family, Elena. It will bring honor to _you_."

"Honor is meaningless when you're dead."

"If you were a man, I'd call you Falstaff."

"If you had the temperament, I'd call you Hotspur." He smiled gently, and she yearned to bring him closer. She imagined if she could wrap her arms around him tight enough then he would have to stay. "I am not a man, Damon. Nor am I a woman who associates with derelicts and criminals. I believe honor is a virtue, and I believe that you can find it _off_ of the battlefield."

"I don't have that choice."

"What about Stefan?" she asked, growing upset. "He's of age to enlist."

"Father plans for him to become a doctor."

"What of our plans?" Damon's eyes momentarily widened and Elena swallowed down the regret of opening her mouth. The problem was they had never made any plans together. They only had what they individually imagined their futures to be like. The song ended and she took a step back from him, offering a small curtsey.

Another man approached to ask for a dance, and Damon also stepped back. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was too late. Elena was already gone, swept off by Victoria Donavan's brother. She wasn't particularly interested in him, but he kept her from falling, which she was grateful for. She spotted her brother dancing with Victoria across the room. He smiled happily as he led her gracefully in a circle, which Elena was doing herself, yet Victoria seemed uninterested. Her eyes jumped from person to person and she smiled, but they never stuck with Jeremy. This worried Elena; what if their engagement was a mistake?

The party ended without incident, but as the sun began to set, the guests left in groups. Elena had danced with a number of men, and even Damon reappeared, but they could not find the words to speak. When John approached her to ask if she would be willing to leave early, she was all too happy to oblige. He, not Damon, held her arm on the way back. It was an odd act of affection, but she didn't deny it. Instead she rested a hand on his. It was the first time he had really left the house, aside from when he went to assess the debris of the Gilbert estate, and he looked well. The color had returned to his skin and he seemed to breathe with ease, not to mention he had been much kinder to those around him.

Upon their return to the house, Elena offered a quiet and awkward goodnight to Damon before going to her room. She pulled at her corset, begging her handmaid to unlace it as quickly as possible.

* * *

><p>When Elena was sure the entire house had long been asleep, she moved from her bed. She took the long, silky dressing gown that was draped over a chair at her bedside and quickly slipped it on. She moved stealthily across the hall, weary of any creaks on the wood floor. Candlelight came from underneath Katherine's door and Elena swore she heard someone giggle, but she didn't investigate further. Light came from under Damon's door as well and she realized the house was much more active at this time of night then she originally thought. She knocked lightly on his door, but didn't wait for him to answer, slipping in and shutting it quickly. Damon looked up at her, startled, from his desk. He had a piece of paper in front of him and a candle close enough so he could read or write, whichever he was doing.<p>

Upon further examination, she realized he had not even changed out of his suit from the ball. His jacket was tossed across his made up bed, and his suspenders hung loosely at the sides of his legs. It was also at that moment that she realized how severely underdressed she was. Damon couldn't help but notice either. The robe she wore helped, but her cotton nightgown was thin, and she made a mental note not to stand in front of the candlelight.

After another moment of awkward silence, Damon finally spoke. "Is something wrong?"

"N-Yes." He arched an eyebrow. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable earlier. I never should have assumed…"

"Assumed?"

"I shouldn't have assumed," she continued, wishing she had never come, "that you intended for anything to happen between us. I don't want you to feel as though you must carry something on with me out of pity."

"You say you shouldn't assume things about me, but aren't you assuming now?"

She stuttered and her cheeks grew red. "I-I just realized I don't have any claim to you. I shouldn't have pressured you, or questioned your father's decisions."

He moved forward, but stopped short just a foot away from her. "That is where you're wrong, Miss Elena. I don't wish for anyone else to claim me."

"I just... I felt I made a mistake when I mentioned our future earlier."

"You surprised me when you mentioned it, yes."

"Have you ever thought about it?" she asked softly.

"Our future?"

She nodded, and he finally closed the space between them. He wrapped one hand around her waist and brought the other up over her neck and into her hair. She sucked in a nervous breath and when she met his eyes, they had that look he got now and then. His eyes were wide and he looked as if he'd just seen an apparition. That curious blue enveloped her and though he looked lost within her, she felt lost within him. "I cannot see a future if you're not in it."

She could feel adrenaline in her fingertips as she stroked them along his jaw and into his hair. She pulled him closer and closer, until finally they were so close that they looked like one big, fat man. She giggled at the thought and tried to brush it away, but she realized Damon was laughing too. They were laughing and kissing and Elena felt a true happiness blossoming in her chest that she had not felt since her parents had died.

She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to the bed. She wasn't sure what she was doing, but she wasn't worried about it anymore. She didn't worry about looking foolish because Damon couldn't see her that way. She couldn't see him that way either. She pulled at the buttons on his shirt one by one, leaving a kiss on his neck and then his chest, as she went lower. They sat up together and she pulled his shirt off mid-kiss, tossing it to the floor, but when he lay back down, she gasped. When Damon looked to inspect, he'd realized what a mistake he had made. It'd been so long since his last confrontation with his father – the one where he 'agreed' that joining the war was a good idea – that he'd forgotten the bruises. They were yellowing now, only remaining purplish towards the middle. They were healing and he didn't even feel them anymore. One bruise covered a large portion of his chest and abdomen, but Elena was covering the one on his side and he was lying on top of the one on his back. "Damon?"

"You mustn't tell."

-11-

* * *

><p><em>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry to cut it off there, but not really. (; Thank you all for reading!<em>

_I'm currently reading the play __**Henry IV Part I**__,_ _and the theme of honor really stuck out to me. Falstaff and Hotspur (whom Damon and Elena mention above) are two characters in the play; Falstaff being a criminal with his character foil being Hotspur, who believes in honor above all. Applying this to Damon and Elena I realized that they themselves are character foils in a sense, yet they are still (in my opinion, at least) perfect for each other. This train of thought definitely applies more to canon Damon/Elena when he's all evil and she's all good. Anyways, I just thought I'd explain who Falstaff and Hotspur were, so it'd make more sense… and maybe give some foreshadowing into the future dynamics of Elena and Damon's relationship. Maybe._

_That's all for now. xo_


	12. Chapter XII

**Part I**

**Chapter XII**

**1864**

**Frederick County, Virginia**

Damon kept his head down, watching his feet slowly sink into the muddy ground with every step he took. He imagined what this land must have looked like before an army marched across it. It was a wide-open area with trees on either side. Occasionally, he would spot a patch of faded green grass that persevered, but mostly, there was mud. As more and more mud coated the hems of his pants, they grew heavier. The men he traveled with - a group of maybe 100 new recruits like himself - were ragtag, to say the least. Damon wore the full uniform his father had purchased for him, but he felt silly when he examined those around him. Most of them were from small towns like Mystic Falls, but they couldn't have been more than the sons of farmers. They sported bits and pieces of the uniform, but it was likely they just couldn't afford the entire thing. The boy next to him was young - too young, he thought. He couldn't have been much older than Stefan. His face was dirty and he only sported the trousers and a cap.

Damon knew his group must be getting close to the camp when he could smell food wafting over the hill. It wasn't before long the smell of something else caught his attention. His counterparts noticed too as their noses rose in the air and groans of disgust filled his ears. The man who led them laughed, "It's the sinks," he called back. "You _won't _get used to it."

Damon ducked his head to hide his disgust. _This is where I'm supposed to be_, he repeated internally. _I am doing this for honor, glory, and adventure. I am doing this for my family. I am doing this for Elena._ But the words were a little hollow.

The sounds of camp caught his attention, and he spotted it just as they went over the hill. It was bigger than he imagined. There were thousands of little white tents for as far as the eye could see. Groups of men stood in lines upon lines and drilled, repeating the same moves over and over.

Damon readjusted the bag on his shoulder and stood silently as he received orders. He reported directly to the man in charge of him. The officer was a compact man, but strong. A long scar stretched up from his neck and onto his face, but he wore it as if it were a medal. "I prefer you address me as Elijah," he said. "My father's name didn't mean anything when I got this scar, and it won't mean anything when this war finally catches up to me." The crowd of men shifted uncomfortably and Damon's thoughts wandered to his own father. Now that he'd been dumped here, he and Stefan could live happily ever after. Or not. Damon was coming back. He wasn't that easy to get rid of. "You," Elijah continued, "will go by your last names until you're important enough to say otherwise."

Damon received his pack and an old weapon that looked like it would fall apart before it could shoot. He struggled to set up his little white tent, frustrated heat rising in his cheeks. He looked up, embarrassed, to find a set of eyes watching him. A gangly man, sitting on a crate about five feet from him, made no effort to hide his amusement. "I take it you're not a builder?" the man laughed.

Damon sat back, letting the cloth fall to the ground. "Not in my whole life."

"You buttoned it wrong," he explained, taking a bite out of the hard bread in his hand, "and you'll want to lay that mat down first if you want to keep from getting wet."

Damon grabbed the oilcloth mat from his pack and inspected it. He'd assumed it was just to keep him warm. "Does this mean _you're _a builder?" he asked the man.

"I've been at this for more than two years," he shrugged. "If I couldn't build a tent by now, I'd look a fool."

Damon nodded, standing back to evaluate his work. It wasn't as good as the ones around him, but it would have to do. "Thank you," he said.

"Of course… I'm Alaric Saltzman, but everyone calls me Ric."

"You're important enough to go by Ric?"

"Certainly not important enough, but I've been here so long they'd call me Mary Beth if I asked." They laughed and Ric lifted his hat to brush back his greasy hair. When Damon really looked at him, he realized that his hair wasn't the only dirty thing about him. His face was streaked with brown and what looked like blood… or maybe food. He wore a Confederate cap, but his trousers were dark blue. There wasn't an inch of his clothes or skin that was the right color. His arms were covered in small bruises and his hands were calloused. "What about you?"

"Damon," and then he paused when he realized that he'd given the wrong name. "Salvatore. Damon Salvatore."

From then on, that was his life. With the winter months approaching, the company was no longer mobile. Food rations were skimpy, but they were bigger than when they were on the move, according to Ric. In the beginning, Damon would repeat the same five words to himself when he felt restless. _Honor. Glory. Adventure. Family. Elena. _Once he had been at camp for three weeks and hadn't even heard news of impending battle, it all seemed very… boring. He woke up when he was told, he cleaned when he was told, he ate when he was told, and then he drilled when he was told. He repeated the same monotonous movements over and over until he was so in harmony with the men around him that he could have offered a handkerchief before they sneezed – if he still carried one – which he didn't.

The men around him were all so vulgar and he felt himself becoming vulgar too. Things he had never dreamed of uttering before just slipped out of his mouth without a thought. He listened to the men as they sat around the fire and gawked in admiration as they told stories of walking through friendly territory in the south. In the big cities, they spoke of the women who lurked around every corner. "They'll make you think that they're stealing your heart when they're really just wrapping those pretty little fingers around your coin purse," one said. "Watch out for an adventuress with a pretty face," another warned. "They're angels at night and devils in the morning… or perhaps the other way around if you prefer." It wasn't long before comments like that didn't make him blush anymore, although he could never actually picture having any of these adventures himself. Not with a lady waiting on him back home. That said, most of these men did have ladies as well, but maybe they just didn't care. Sometimes they would pass their women's pictures around just to see whose was the prettiest. Damon knew if he had a picture of Elena, he would win.

She occupied his thoughts at every second. When he stood guard late at night he imagined her sitting with him, her head on his shoulder. She'd be wearing that dress that he loved, the one that was long gone in the fire, the lavender one with puffed sleeves that fell off her shoulders. She would smell like flowers… or maybe honey. She would smell like anything that wasn't what he smelled at that moment, he decided. When he marched in a line he imagined her marching around next to him, laughing as though it were all just a silly game. When they carried off all the bodies of men who had died of sickness, she walked alongside them and mourned for all of them even though they were unknown to her.

When a package from home finally arrived, he could hardly contain his excitement. He took it from the courier carefully, but when he realized that the men around him were excited as he, there was no more room for control. He found a place as private as possible and wrenched it open. It was a small box filled with a few letters and some little trinkets, but a small piece of paper lay on top of it all.

_Damon, your brother and I gathered some things for you. – Elena_

He ran his fingers over her perfect, elongated handwriting and he felt his heart grow heavy. Among the letters from her and Stefan – none from his father, he noticed – there was a Mystic Falls newspaper, a copy of _The Woman in White_, clean socks, stationery, and a bounty of glorious food. He dug his hand into a little sack of candy and he thought he would cry. He could picture her handpicking the apples that she baked into three little pies. A bottle of whiskey, very expensive whiskey, glared at him from the corner of the wooden box. It wasn't easy to get nowadays, not in the north, but especially not in the south. His brother may have included a note, but this had Elena written all over it.

He grabbed the whiskey and her letter, taking a sip from the bottle before tearing it open. He unfolded the piece of paper within and something smaller fell out; a picture, he realized. Elena looked back at him, frozen in her beauty on small piece of paper. A tiny smirk tugged at her lips, but she looked so serene. _So far away_, he thought. He blamed it on the whiskey, but his eyes burned until he couldn't bear to look at it anymore.

He turned his attention to the letter, but it didn't last long when Ric came and snatched the bottle from his hands. "Lucky dog," he smirked, taking a swig.

"You didn't receive anything?"

"A cake from my gal back home," he shrugged. "We can't afford anything else."

"It's my first package. I'm sure she just wanted to it to be special."

"She?"

"She."

Damon offered her picture for him to see and Ric responded with a long whistle. "Lucky dog," he repeated.

-12-


	13. Chapter XIII

**Part I**

**Chapter XIII**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Just as the town of Mystic Falls started to shed its blanket of paranoia, the chill of winter penetrated the innermost area of Virginia. It was much colder than one would expect for that time of year. The citizens had only just started leaving their homes and lingering out in town after sunset again, when the weather would no longer let them. Katherine peeked at Stefan in the reflection of her floor-length mirror, as she took the braids out of her hair. He wasn't looking at her, but out of the long window of her bedroom. Every few seconds, the glass in front of his face would fog up from his breath. "I think it's snowing," he murmured.

"Good," she said. "Whatever will keep people off the streets at night."

"You don't care about these people," he smirked, looking back at her.

She sauntered over to him, shrugging her robe off of her shoulders and onto the floor. "You're right. I don't care about anyone outside of this house."

"So, you admit you care about someone?"

She wrapped her arms around him and gently ran her fingers across his chest. "Don't tell on me," she simpered. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into him, kissing her roughly, but she only indulged him for a moment. To his dismay, she used both hands to push him away, but held him by the straps of his suspenders. "How is your father doing, by the way?"

"My father?" He took a moment to catch his breath, trying to focus. Of all the things he was thinking of, his father hadn't been one of them.

"He has a troupe of strangers living in his home, and now his first-born son is off to war."

"You and I both know he isn't concerned about either of those things."

"As for the vampires… they suspect one set the fire."

"An interesting theory," she said. There was nothing inside of her that made her want to tell Stefan the truth about it.

"Now, they only have their wooden stakes to protect them."

She was soothed by that thought, and decided to change the subject, grabbing Stefan' by the sides and shoving his back against the window behind him. Little bumps formed on his skin from the cold. She pulled his shirt open and kissed him gently, starting at his midsection and working her way up his chest and onto his neck. When she looked up, her reflection was clouded in the window by the condensation surrounding him. He ran his hands over her sides and back hungrily, but she could feel him brace when she gently ran her tongue over a smooth spot of skin on his neck. He didn't make a sound when she clamped down on him, and she gripped him tightly as the warm liquid flowed quickly into her mouth.

Stefan raised a hand to her arm, and she knew he was growing uncomfortable, but she needed just a second longer. It would have been a minute if an unusual noise hadn't caught her attention. She smacked an unintentionally rough hand over Stefan's mouth and shoved him into the wall next to her, listening intently. He didn't make a noise, holding a hand to his neck and sliding down the wall weakly.

She heard the noise again and this time she realized it was a moan, or perhaps a groan, but it was just loud enough for her to pick up on. Her glare flew back to the window when she heard a stick break. "Stay here," she commanded, opening the latches on the window. He couldn't even look up to see her jump from the window. Her bare feet landed silently on the ground below and that was when she picked up on a very, very faint heartbeat.

Around the corner, Jeremy's almost lifeless body lay beneath a hooded figure. A territorial growl rose in her throat and she felt her sharp teeth slide out of her gums, but the figure ran before she even realized what was happening. She debated running after it until she realized that the very, very faint heartbeat was gone. "Jeremy?" she whispered. Panic erupted in her stomach and she fell to her knees beside him. No pulse, no heartbeat, no breath. He was nothing but a shell. She reached for his hand, and breathed a sigh of relief when she realized her ring was still wrapped around his finger. In his other hand was a love note for the lady Victoria. "Idiot," she sighed.

"Katherine?" Stefan called from the window. "Is everything well?"

She rolled her eyes and took Jeremy into her arms in true damsel-in-distress fashion. "Come open the front door," she called back.

When they met at the door, she willed him with her eyes not to make a sound. "Go get Elena," she ordered before taking him to his room.

She ripped Jeremy's boots from his feet and dropped them to the floor and roughly put him in his bed, annoyance rising up her spine with every second she spent near him.

Elena entered the room sleepily, followed by Stefan. "Katherine?" she yawned. "What's wrong?"

"_Sit_," she ordered. "_You are very awake, but you're going to stay calm_."

Elena's back stiffened and her eyes widened, nodding in agreement.

"_You're mind is open to me and you'll stay calm no matter what happens next. You will not be scared_."

She turned her attention to Stefan then. "I'm sorry I have to do this."

"Do what?"

But it was already too late and she was too focused on what she was doing to pay attention to him any longer. "_You never saw me this evening. You were reading in your room when you heard a noise outside and went to investigate. You opened the front door and stepped outside for only a moment before a vampire attacked you. You couldn't see his face, but you were able to get inside before he killed you_. _He wore a hooded cloak._"

His head bobbed up and down absent-mindedly, never breaking eye contact with her. "I thought someone was trying to break in. I was just trying to protect my home."

She smiled sympathetically before saying sorry once more and ripping into his neck more ferociously than before. Her intent was more about tearing at the skin then it was to take his blood, but she needed to be careful if she wanted him to heal. "_Now go alert your father. Quickly. You're very afraid._"

His eyes widened and he gasped, covering his wound with hand. He ran out quickly, but weakly, and Katherine quietly shut the door behind him.

"I don't understand," Elena said, confused, but serene nonetheless.

Katherine sat next to Jeremy and took a deep breath before explaining exactly what was happening. Elena sat quietly as she whispered to her, but it wasn't long before they heard a panicked shout from down the hall. There were footsteps and the light of candles that flashed beneath the doors. Katherine waited patiently before she continued. She explained about vampires and how she was one. She told Elena all about how she survived. Most importantly, she compelled the girl not to say anything.

"If you are a vampire," Elena asked, a sad look growing in her eyes. "Was my mother a vampire as well?"

"I am a very old descendent of your mother's, Elena. I compelled myself into her memories long ago."

"Why?"

"Blood is important to me, Elena. In more ways than one. I've followed my bloodline for generations, ensuring that they live and that they produce an heir."

"I still don't understand. Why do you care?"

She gritted her teeth, trying to stay patient. "I had a daughter when I was very young and unmarried." Elena shifted uncomfortably at that, signaling the possibility that she was more uncomfortable with bearing a child out of wedlock than she was with her 'aunt' being a centuries-old murderer. "My father took her so quickly that I never even held her."

"But you found her?"

"I never even looked for her."

"How, then?"

"I went back home many years after my father had thrown me out. I planned on torturing him until he told me where he had taken her, but he was so old by then that he thought I was a ghost. He was so frightened that he told me where he thought she would be."

"Did you find her?"

"No," she frowned. "I found her daughter who informed me that she had disappeared long ago, so I stayed with her instead."

"Now you plan on doing that forever?"

"Of course I like to check in. If all of you have offered me anything over the centuries, it's been shelter." Elena looked at her blankly and she sighed. "When I see my descendents, I see my mother. I see my daughter. I know they'll be here for me if I need them." Once again, they heard men yelling outside and a gunshot rang out. "Family is what's most important, Elena. Do you understand? That's what your ring is for. It will protect you."

"Is that why I'm not upset that Jeremy is dead?"

Katherine nodded earnestly before looking her dead in the eye. "_You mustn't tell anyone. You may hate me, you may think I am a monster, but you will never utter it to anyone_."

Elena blinked, "I don't hate you."

Katherine's eyes turned red and she felt the veins below swelled, "Do you fear me?"

"You told me not to."

-13-

* * *

><p><em>AUTHOR'S NOTE: *siiiiiiiigh* I had three chapters written in advance. Three. Something happened with my computer, blah blah blah, and suddenly all three chapters – including this one – got deleted. That's why I haven't updated as I usually do. I needed a day to be mad and now I'm rewriting them, facing severe disappointment considering they're not as good as the originals. <em>

_Anyways… Happy Thanksgiving to all of my American readers. Only I suppose there isn't much I want to celebrate this year. Stay safe all. xo_


	14. Chapter XIV

**Part I**

**Chapter XIV**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Elena watched out the window patiently as the sun began to rise in the sky. She hadn't moved even a little since Katherine had left her side in the small hours of the morning. Slowly, streaks of light crept down the wall until the entire room was filled with the fresh light of day. Her hands held her brother's, who still lay unconscious before her. All through the night, she feared that Mr. Salvatore or her uncle would come bursting through the door and would discover Jeremy's body. Each time she heard footsteps go through the front door or a gunshot ring out in the air, she prayed for Jeremy to wake. Each time her prayers went unanswered.

She felt distant from herself. There was a disconnect between her thoughts and emotions. Everything Katherine had told her should have upset her, but she didn't feel that way. She felt calm. _What do you know? _she asked herself. _My name is Elena Gilbert. I am human. My brother is Jeremy. He is dead. Temporarily. My aunt, no my relative, Katherine, is a vampire. She murders people. She protects me. She protected my mother. I don't understand what a vampire is. They feed on humans. My family wants them dead. I don't know if I want them dead. I have to protect Katherine's secret. I mustn't tell._

She thought of someone else who said that to her once and her mind drifted to thoughts of Damon. Images of the yellowed bruises and his embarrassment on the night of the Founder's Ball flashed before her mind. She kicked herself for even letting on she had noticed. It was so impolite and he had been so humiliated, pushing her to the side so he could button his shirt once again. Elena apologized until she couldn't think of any other ways to say 'sorry', but he couldn't even look her in the face.

The few times she saw him afterwards, she pretended it had never happened and their affection continued as before. Even so, she still wondered about it. Her first thought was that he got them from roughhousing with his brother, or maybe he'd been working in the stables. She hadn't given them a second thought until his panicked eyes met hers and he said those three words: "_You mustn't tell." _That was when she knew that Mr. Salvatore was not the man she had thought. It was the only thing that made sense to her. Every time she saw him now, she couldn't stand to look at his ugly face.

She reached into the pocket of her robe and grabbed the piece of paper in it. The paper was worn and crinkled from being folded and refolded, but she opened it once again. It looked like Damon had scratched his words quickly.

_Elena,_

_I cannot tell if it is the cold weather or that you are gone from my sight, but everything is bleak now. I hope my letter will make you smile as greatly as yours made me. Thank you so much for everything you sent me. Every little piece of you was more than I deserve. My companions might be more in love with you than I am after I shared some of your gifts. I hope you don't mind, but every little thing that will lift up their spirits helps. In my next package, could you send a sewing kit? All of my clothes are falling apart already. Otherwise, everything is well. We are fed almost as well as we are in our own homes. The nights are a little cold, but we're given a bounty of blankets to stack on top of ourselves. All is well, my love. I hope you will tell me the same. I don't have time to write any further. They drill us until my muscles can't remember how to do anything else, but I still must go back. Thank you again, Elena, my sunshine. Please write soon._

_All my love,_

_Damon Salvatore_

When the door opened behind her, she was startled. She shoved the paper back in her pocket quickly as she spun around. Giuseppe Salvatore stared at her with his beady eyes and her thoughts immediately turned to Jeremy. She raised a finger to her lips and held a hand up so he wouldn't come any closer. "He was up all night," she whispered. "He had a fever until early this morning."

"Why didn't you call for a doctor?" he whispered back, worried.

"I heard shots and screams. I didn't want to leave the room."

He nodded. "I'm sorry. There was a… burglar."

She pretended to believe every word. "I'm glad I didn't leave then."

"Yes, it was safer for you in here."

"Did you catch him?" Elena asked.

"Who?"

"The burglar?"

"Oh! No, he got away."

"Oh, dear."

"Don't fret. He'll be caught soon enough now that we know of him." His eyes turned to Jeremy once again and Elena tried to position herself in his line of sight. "Should I call a doctor for him now?"

"His fever is gone. He's just resting."

"You're sure?"

"I think the cold just got him."

He sighed. "If you say so." There was a moment between them where they only could stare at each other. The silence reflected on the awkward encounter as a whole, but Elena wasn't thinking of that at all. Rage burned in her stomach and she tried to suck it down, but she still felt her cheeks growing red. "Has Damon written?"

"Of course." _You would know that if you had written him yourself, you evil lit-_

"I assume he hasn't seen battle then?"

"Not yet."

He didn't say another word to her before leaving, and her face turned up in disgust. It was bewildering to think that man and Damon could be related. She sat back down as she was and took the letter from her pocket again, folding it carefully. It was then that Jeremy sat up with a start, lifting his hand to his neck. The wound was gone and Katherine and Elena had long since changed him out of his bloody clothes, but he could still feel a burning pinch on the spot where he was bitten. "Elena?" he gasped.

A smile erupted over her face and she dove for him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. "Thank God," she breathed.

"What happened?"

She hesitated, remembering what her aunt had said. "Katherine will tell you."

-14-


	15. Chapter XV

**Part I**

**Chapter XV**

**1864**

**Frederick County, Virginia**

Damon kept his eyes fixed on the ground as he and thousands of others from mixed companies marched. It was late at night and he had been walking for four hours straight. He had blisters forming on his heels and his muscles begged him to pause for just a moment, but he kept moving still. He had been static for so long that he was happy to be finally moving. As always, he found himself trying to find balance on the slippery mud the men left behind. The echoes of footsteps rang all around him, but he couldn't see far past the fog.

"Isn't that a bad omen?" Damon wondered out loud.

"What?" Ric replied, his breathing loud.

"The fog."

"What about it?"

"I don't know… the fog… the crows… It's unsettling."

"You should be grateful for the cover," Ric huffed. "The Yanks will never see us coming."

Damon nodded, his eyes returning to the ground, but he was not comforted. They were only marching this late in order to sneak up on their enemies, and that gave them the advantage. Still, he had a feeling and it wasn't a good one.

"You're just nervous about your first fight, kid."

"How long do you think we have to march?"

Ric shrugged, "This is the farthest I've ever gone before. It won't be long, now."

There was too much fog to clearly see what lay in the distance, but if they were drawing near, then the officers would have put them in order. Now, the men walked where they felt comfortable and talked freely if they weren't too tired. "Maybe Elijah knows."

Disobedient to his own burning muscles, Damon picked up his pace in order to catch up with Elijah who rode on a horse far ahead of them. He heard Ric groan, but Damon knew he was following from the sound of his canteen clanking against his belt buckle. Elijah looked elegant on his horse, especially in comparison to the haggard men surrounding him. Even after years of war and hours of endless travel, Elijah held himself with an air of confidence and sophistication. Damon hoped he would look like that at the end of his service, not like these men around him who looked like they were dead long before they actually died. "Elijah."

"Yes?"

"How much longer is it going to be?"

Elijah chuckled, "We'll be getting into formation any time now. Do you think you can make it?"

"Of course. I was just curious."

"I wonder about you sometimes, Salvatore."

"What is there to wonder at?"

"Look around you. You stick out."

Damon frowned. He was just beginning to think he was starting to look like a real soldier. His face was often unshaven and there were bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep. He was often sick from the cold and his cheeks were sinking in because there wasn't enough food to go around. He soon stopped wearing his entire uniform because it was too heavy, but everything was covered in dirt, anyway. His hair was even shaggier than usual and often fell in front of his eyes. How could he stick out? He felt sunken in. "What do you mean?"

"Don't take offense, private. I don't mean it like that." There was a moment of silence, and Elijah let out an annoyed sigh. "Boys with names and fathers like yours don't end up among men like these. Your father is well connected, so it's odd that you ended up here."

"Where should I have ended up?"

"I was a messenger when I first came here, thanks to my father."

"Are you saying I should have been a messenger?"

"I'm not saying anything."

"He's saying it's strange because you shouldn't be up on the front lines with the likes of me," Ric grunted.

An awkward silence came over the three men as Damon pondered their words. It had never even occurred to him that his father had any control over where he was. His father couldn't have known either, of course.

Elijah straightened and cleared his throat, "I think it's time to get in formation."

When Damon looked ahead he realized that people were calling back to each other and tightening into their lines. Elijah wasn't looking at them anymore, but ahead. He dug the backs of his heels into his horse's side, and picked up speed, leaving the two men behind. There was no more time to talk. The fog had thickened even more, and Damon tried to remember that that was a good thing. Slowly, all of the footsteps began to fall into the same step and the clamor of a thousand men was the only thing that filled his ears. His heartbeat quickened and he felt a nervousness that was so rare for him before. He felt it when he first arrived at the camp, again when he spent his first night alone, again when he left for this march so many hours ago, and now when the actual battle was pending. For so long, he'd been in the same camp doing the same thing that he had wished for this excitement. Now he wanted nothing of the sort. His eyes shifted from the faces he could partially see around him, hoping he would see the same anxiety on someone else's face. He couldn't even see under the dirt on one man, but the others looked calm. When he thought about it, he realized he was making a conscious effort to look calm too.

_Honor. Glory. Adventure. Family. Elena._

The words dominated his thoughts, but he paused on the last one. Elena would be asleep by now. She would be warm under the same thick quilts he'd slept under since he was young. There was no doubt she was safe under the protection of her brother and uncle. The thought of her being at peace calmed him.

He held his weapon tighter to his chest and took a deep breath. "All I've done for the past month is drill, and now I don't know what to do."

Ric smacked a hand on his shoulder, falling out of step with the others for a moment. "Shoot when you see blue."

-15-

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><p><em>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alas, the time for finals is coming up and my workload for school has doubled, so chapters are coming way slower, but they're still coming!<em>

_As always, thank you all for reading and for your kind words. These Civil War chapters are so fun to write. It's like porn for a history major/Damon Salvatore enthusiast. I hope you all are enjoying sweet and innocent Damon… while he lasts. ;)_

_See you soon. xo_


	16. Chapter XVI

**Part I**

**Chapter XVI**

**1864**

**Frederick County, Virginia**

Damon Salvatore was acutely aware of the regret that he carried around for the majority of his life. A hundred times since he had arrived at camp, he had wished upon everything and anything that he could go back on his word to join the army. He had closed his eyes every night in his little tent as he tried to swaddle himself in his rough blankets and prayed that he would wake up in his own, warm bed, or at the very least, dry. He silently chided himself every time he had to force down the hard bread - Ric called it 'tack' - he was given for every meal. He yearned to retrace every one of his steps backward through time until he was facing Elena, and when she begged him to stay, he would.

There were things he regretted before the army that would still come back to overtake his thoughts, as well. He hated himself every day when he thought of his father. Although he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that Giuseppe Salvatore declared his very existence a nuisance, he still regretted it, whatever it was. In the same thought, he hated his own disdain for himself. He could never understand where this fear and loathing inside him came from.

Damon had lamented many of his decisions in his life, but he would never say he regretted Fell's Church. His time at camp was spent in a constant, surreal state where nothing ever changed, so when he was woken by the gruff voice of a man and strong hands trying to pull him out of his tent by the feet, he feared the worst. He was already praying that whoever it was would kill him quickly, when his face finally met Ric's as he wrestled him onto the dirt.

"Bastard!" Damon choked, falling backwards. He'd been so scared it didn't even occur to him that his father would have his mouth sewn shut if he heard him using that kind of language.

"Come on, kid," Ric said, ignoring the remark, "ain't got the time to throw fits, now." Damon rubbed the side of his arm, which was the only thing that seemed to be injured in the scuffle, but it only felt like a bruise. Ric rolled his eyes at the gesture and pulled him to his feet by the bruised spot. "I don't listen to anyone whine unless it's because someone's corset is too tight and they're just _dying _to get out of it. Now, grab that bottle of whiskey you're hiding and let's go."

"Where are we going?" Damon asked as Ric began to pull him in to the dark line of the trees that bordered the camp.

_"__Shh_," Ric insisted.

Damon did as he was told and lowered his head to the ground to make sure he didn't fall. The liquor sloshed around inside its glass and he was sad to have to use it. He'd been drinking a little every night to help him fall asleep, but if he knew Ric, that wasn't going to be an option anymore. Once they were a safe distance from the camp, Ric slowed and Damon realized he heard voices. He grabbed for his pistol, but Ric only relaxed. "You ever been out this late?" he asked.

Damon shook his head no. "Where would I go? Nothing is open."

Ric laughed, a little too loud, and shook his head, but before Damon could repeat his question, they were approaching a group of men standing by a tree. It took a moment, but Damon realized that all of them were from camp too. "You get the horses?" Ric asked.

A short man who was eyeing the bottle in Damon's hand nodded. "Tied 'em up on the outskirts o' the woods."

Damon squared his shoulders as he prepared to ask one more time, agreeing with himself that if he didn't receive an answer, then he would stop asking. "Where are we going?"

"Fell's Church," Ric explained, "is a town just a few miles away from here. I try to go there at least once every time we stay in Frederick's."

"What do you go there for?"

Damon looked around gingerly as all of the men began to snicker. _Have they brought me here as a trick? _He thought. "I don't understand," he said out loud.

"Don't worry, kid." Ric chuckled. "Once you see it, you won't need to understand."

Ric was right. At first, he was terrified the men had brought him along just to leave him and make a fool out of him in front of the officers. The town was quiet, though dimly lit by burning lanterns and candles that occasionally appeared in people's windows. It wasn't until they approached a tall building in the square that he realized what was happening. On the journey there, he had shared the bottle with Ric, and with the other man who had spoken to him, Luca. He could feel the liquid floating around in his head and he couldn't tell if his brain was buoyantly floating or sinking like a stone. They stumbled up the steps of the establishment and the scent of tobacco and perfume filled his nose.

It was a saloon. Just like the ones he had heard about from the men when they told their stories around the campfire. To his left, a long bar ran along the wall, decorated with shiny bottles and colorful ladies to match. Men sat at tables and stood around, but no one turned to look as they entered. Perhaps they didn't notice because the sound of the piano coming from the corner mixed with the loud chatter of drunken men and laughing women were too loud. Maybe they didn't care. They all looked like they were having too much fun.

Damon took a final pull from his bottle and sat it on the table to his right. He followed the others to a table and tried to focus on his surroundings. He was a little angry with Ric for not telling him what was happening; he never would have drunk so much if he thought he was going to want to remember what was happening. Most of the other men wandered off in search of drinks and other pastimes, but Ric leaned back in his seat and smiled. "Sorry we couldn't bring you earlier," he half-shouted. "I figured we'd have gone on a march by now and it's usually better to get that out of the way first."

"Why's that?" Damon half-slurred back.

"It's rough, kid. Let's leave it at that."

Damon nodded.

A few moments later, a pair of long, skinny arms slithered around Ric's neck and the woman attached appeared from behind him. "Well if it isn't my favorite customer?" she giggled, kissing him on the cheek.

Damon blushed. He'd seen plenty of men drink a little too much and get handsy with some young little thing who would giggle and smack his hand away. He always made sure he took the lady's hand and removed her from the situation, and perhaps laugh about it later when he recounted the episode to his brother, or even Elena. He had never seen a woman act so forward before. His eyes widened when she slid a hand down Ric's chest and onto his inner thigh, "I guess you've missed me as much as I've missed you?" He'd never even seen a man act this forward before.

Ric laughed a husky little laugh Damon had never heard before as he pulled her onto his lap. "You can't possibly know how much I've missed _you_, Meredith. Not yet, at least." The two laughed and Damon realized he had never been so uncomfortable in his life. He was suddenly very aware of how straight he was sitting, but when he tried to slouch, as he had grown accustomed to around these men, he felt ridiculous. Then there were his hands, which fiddled and twitched in his lap, then on the table, and then on his lap again. He looked straight ahead and willed himself to stop blushing.

"Who's this?" Meredith asked.

"This," Ric said, with a smirk on his face that made Damon fearful, "is a very good friend of mine. He's new, see, and the boys and I just wanted to treat him to a night out for being such a good soldier."

Damon looked around, but there was no "boys" to be seen. "Well, how well are you wanting to treat him?" Meredith smiled. Unlike Ric, earnestness lay on her lips and in her eyes.

Ric leaned in closer to her again and said something that Damon couldn't hear. Meredith just nodded and gave him a small kiss on the lips before hopping up and parading off into some unseen corner.

"She seems nice," Damon said tightly.

Before Ric could respond, they were joined once again by the other men, each with a drink in one hand, and a few with a girl in the other. They played around, howling and guzzling down the golden liquid in their glasses. Occasionally, they would send off a girl to get another, but she always came back quickly. Damon tried to laugh and join in, but Meredith had been gone for a long time now. He could feel Ric smirking at him, but he couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes.

Finally, when Damon feared he would grow sore from fidgeting so much, Meredith returned empty-handed. She took her original seat - Ric's lap - and acted as if nothing had happened. Damon calmed down at once. He wasn't sure what he was nervous about – or perhaps he was absolutely sure, because it wasn't soon after that another woman appeared with a full glass in hand and her eyes locked on his. The sight of her scared him even more. She was tall, almost as tall as he was, with long hair. Her skin was olive-toned and her hair was so light it almost matched. He couldn't help but wonder if she spent long periods of time out in the sun when she wasn't… working. There was no doubt that she was one of the prettiest women in the room, but the gleam in her green eyes made her a monster.

"I saw your glass getting empty," she said simply, putting the full one down on the table.

Damon looked to Ric for instruction, having never been in this sort of social situation before, but Ric only continued to look at him as he had been. "Thank you," he finally stammered.

The entire table was watching him now, waiting for him to say something – anything - to the girl before him.

"He's shy," Ric said to her. "Probably just used to charming the ladies with his looks, not his greenbacks."

Damon blushed furiously this time, but was relieved to see a way out. "I don't have any money," he said, honestly. "Sorry, I won't waste your time."

"Oh, don't worry about all that," the girl said, scooting closer to him. "Your friends have been _very _generous… to both of us."

Damon's stomach turned and he couldn't tell if it was from her words or her perfume. "Oh, no. No need." He struggled to find words. "I'm all set. Thank you."

The table laughed. One man, louder than the others, said, "All set? You've been away more than a month! You got that girl o' yers sneaking into camp or what?"

The table roared with laughter and Damon wanted to be anywhere else – even in the middle of a battle. He was so embarrassed he couldn't even find room to be angry.

"It's fine," Ric sighed. "We've all got a girl somewhere, kid. They don't need to know about what goes on when we're away."

Damon took the drink and gulped it down, shoving both of his empty glasses at the girl. He frowned apologetically once he realized his rudeness. "Could I please have another?" he said guiltily.

She only smiled and took both of the glasses, "I'll fill both."

Once she was gone, Ric leaned in and smacked him on the head. "'S the matter with you?"

Damon shrugged dejectedly.

"Those manners ain't gonna do you good here, son," one of the older men said.

"You don't gotta feel guilty," another added. "They're just doing their job!"

"It's not that," he sighed, frustrated. "I-"

He had been so concerned with finding a good excuse that he hadn't noticed Meredith whispering into Ric's ear again. Just as she had finished her thought, he slammed his fist on the table and crowed to the air, throwing her from his lap and stomping his foot. "Boys, I just figured it out!" The entire room was listening now, not just the table, and Damon leaned his elbows onto his knees and put his face in his hands. He was caught.

Finally, in one fell swoop, Ric delivered the blow. "We got ourselves a cherry!" he shouted. All at once the crowd of people went into an uproar and he could feel a group of men rush on him. He wished again that he could be someplace else, and it was only then that his wish came true.

The cheering men grabbed his limbs and dragged him up the staircase and down the hall. It felt as though he had been thrown into a tornado and it spit him back out in a quiet little room. He sat up on the bed once the mystery men who had brought him left, and evaluated his surroundings. The room was dimly lit, but he could make out the pink curtains that hung over the windows and the matching paint on the walls. It was a simple room with just a bed, a small table, and a chest, but it was cozy, he thought.

Just as he was about to snoop, the door opened. The woman who went to fetch his drinks entered, the two promised beers in hand. "I'm sorry about that," she smiled. "I take it you're one who likes to keep these things quiet?"

"I don't prefer these things at all," he muttered taking one beer and gulping it down quickly. He could feel himself becoming quite drunk, but he was desperate to wash away the embarrassment. She waited patiently for him to finish before trading him glasses. When he was done, she set them both on the table.

"They're only teasing," she said, sitting next to him.

"Hilarious," he grunted. He stood and snatched a silver cross from a little bowl of jewelry on the table, swinging it from his fingers. "So," he slurred, dramatically falling across the bed. "Is this where you deflower me?" If only he had been this relaxed earlier.

"Is that what you want?"

He sat up awkwardly and shrugged. She paused for a moment before leaning in slowly, kissing him softly on the lips. He sat still for a moment but something about someone else touching his lips was electrifying. It was only another moment before he clumsily smashed his face to hers. Over the weeks and weeks he had been away, the pain of separation from Elena had dulled significantly. He still thought of her, still dreamed of the day he returned, but she didn't haunt him every moment as she used to. It wasn't until that moment that whatever place she took up inside of him was stripped away and something like heavy boulders tumbled down into that spot inside of him and it hurt so much he couldn't breathe. The pain of having her being ripped out from inside of his heart was much worse than the pain of separation.

He ran his hands up the girl's leg and then her abdomen, all the way up to her face, where he held it and pulled away. "What's your name?" he breathed.

She opened her eyes, but stayed where she was. "Rose."

"Rose," he repeated. "I can't do this."

She smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "I know."

"I can't be anymore without her than I already am… I know it doesn't make sense, b-"

"It's all right," she reassured. "Does she know?"

"What?"

"How you feel?"

"I think so."

She rolled her eyes.

"That isn't good enough?"

She scoffed, "Anyone can 'think so', but not everyone can know."

"You don't think she knows?" he said, confused.

"I think that you're not sure."

He frowned, "Maybe not."

"So make yourself sure. Make her sure. Tell her. When you get back, tell her that you can't be without her."

"What about everyone downstairs?"

"Let them think what they want," she said, kissing him on the cheek. He leaned back to his back was against the headboard. He focused hard on the wall in front of him in an attempt to get it to be still. "Do you want me to leave you?"

His head lulled to the side so he could look at her. "Will you just lay with me?" he asked quietly, and he was surprised to feel a lump rising in his throat and the corners of his mouth turn down hard. He hadn't just been bored at the camp. He'd grown lonely.

She smiled softly and scooted up next to him, laying her head in the crook of his shoulder like he had so often pictured Elena doing. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend it was her, but nothing was right. He could hear the party going on downstairs and her perfume was too strong and offensive. "Rose," he whispered.

"Hm?" she breathed.

"What if I don't make it back?"

* * *

><p>Damon Salvatore was irrevocably aware of his regret. He was always thinking of all the mistakes he had made, but there was a particular grievance on his mind the morning he was shot.<p>

He'd marched for so many hours across so many miles and when his men finally advanced on their enemies, he couldn't have been prepared for what he would see. He saw the blood of the north and the blood of the south mix and sink into the grass beneath his feet. He saw limbs blown off and he had heard the cries of men begging to be put out of their misery from all around. He did not think of this as he lay dying. Men he played cards with, men he had eaten meals with, men he had become friends with fell to the ground around him when the life was shot from their bodies. He did not think of this as he lay dying. He had done as he was told and aimed his gun at those who threatened him; pulling the trigger and watching them fall just as his friends had. He did not think of this as he lay dying.

He had gone down valiantly. A man raised his barrel in Ric's direction as his back was turned, and though Damon feared the tip of that gun more than anything else, he found himself diving in front of his friend and raising his own. He couldn't even get a shot off before he felt a jolt in his abdomen, almost like a punch. A second later, the pain followed and his vision went black for a moment. He knew he had been shot somewhere in his stomach, but he couldn't determine where the pain was coming from specifically. It was like someone lit a fire in his stomach and all he could do was lay there and burn. Ric turned just in time to protect himself from a second shot, shooting the man in the chest.

Damon didn't regret saving his friend. He didn't regret murdering those men in blue. He didn't regret kissing Rose. All he could see was Elena's face when she received word of his death. He could never do as Rose instructed. He could never tell Elena again that she was the only thing that kept him going. Not honor. Not glory. Not adventure. Not family. Elena. He regretted that her tears for him would run out and she would find a new man eventually, as selfish of him as that was. Ric hovered over him, shaking his shoulders, but he couldn't hear anymore. Only did he hear her voice saying his name like she did. "_Damon?"_

-16-

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><p><em>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Woo! Long chapter! Only two more finals left, so I'll be back soon – hopefully. Hope you all liked, and as always, thank you so much for reading, subscribing, favoriting, and reviewing. It means a lot and really keeps me going. <em>

_That's all for now. xo_


	17. Chapter XVII

**Part I**

**Chapter XVII**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Since the day Jeremy Gilbert was born, his sister had developed what even her own mother would call an obsession. It was as though her compassion for every living thing suddenly turned all of its attention to her brother. She was rarely without him. The wet nurse was only allowed to feed him, and then care for him when Elena couldn't. Their nanny, an elderly woman named Samantha who died only weeks after Elena turned fourteen, was treated the same way. Elena would pick out Jeremy's clothes and help boil the water to bathe him in. She read to him and tried to teach him when he got old enough. She loved him more fiercely than anyone or anything else. She learned to ease her grip as he got older, but it tightened once again when their mother died, and more when their father followed.

This trait did not come as a shock to anyone. This was a girl who cried when she found a dead snake in the yard and gave it a funeral. This was the girl who would sneak loaves of bread from the kitchen and give them to the hungry children she would see in town. This was the girl who somehow got a horse into the house so it wouldn't be cold in the out in the barn. Even with the trouble she caused, Miranda Gilbert was quite proud of her daughter. She knew she would make a beautiful wife and an excellent mother. It wouldn't be hard for her to find a suitable husband with a good name. Her children would grow up well cared for and educated. She knew all of this because of the way Elena cared for her brother.

Even though her brother grew up and her parents died, Elena's humanity never faltered. If anything, her love for children grew. All of this was perfectly clear when she sat on the floor, cradling a child's face in her hands. Ladies from around town had come forth to offer their condolences and concerns to the family after Stefan's "attack." They brought mixed gifts, like things to entertain a bed-ridden Stefan and baked goods they undoubtedly didn't make themselves. Honoria Fell, who had made Katherine and Elena a new set of dresses after the fire, even brought her daughter in hopes of cheering up Elena.

The ladies in the room lifted their eyebrows at her dress, which spilled out on the rug, but she didn't care. She'd spent so much of her time worrying about Damon lately. In the month he had been gone, she had made fourteen pairs of socks, nine cakes, four batches of cookies, and various other goodies, all of which snugly fit into the wooden boxes she sent to him every week. It only became worse after Jeremy was attacked and she learned all of Katherine's secrets. Instead of sleeping, she stayed awake at night, looking out her window for anyone lurking in the dark. She wrote letter after letter to Damon, expressing her fears, but burned them in the fireplace instead of sending them. But all these worries fell away at the sound of a laughing child.

The little girl, was only two, toddling around in a nice white dress that her mother probably made for her. Her perfect little ringlets bounced excitedly as she ran around the room, showing off. The ladies laughed quietly, but Elena was beaming. She had to resist the urge to grab the girl and squeeze her as tightly as she could.

She was so happy she didn't even noticed Katherine entering the room. "Stefan would like to thank you all," she smiled. "He only wishes he could do it in person." The ladies all offered sympathetic smiles and sat up when they saw servants bringing in tea and cakes. "_I _only wish I could offer you more in return."

Elena eyed her aunt uneasily. The ladies all looked at her kindly, almost as though they were admiring her. Katherine was so beautiful, and other unmarried women her age would have been called old maids, but no one thought that of her. She was too charming, too alluring. Elena was still unsure as to whether or not she trusted her, but she was reminded that she couldn't let anyone know that when she received a pointed look from Katherine. Elena ducked her head and returned her attention to the child once again. The little girl was standing in front of Elena, grabbing the silver chain of her necklace and tugging on it. "Do you like it?" Elena cooed quietly. "It was my mother's, you know."

"Elena," Katherine called sternly. "Get off the floor. You know better." Elena's cheeks turned red and she did as she was told, but the little girl quickly followed her to her spot on the couch, and climbed onto her lap. "As I was saying," Katherine continued, "help yourself. Quickly, though. I don't want to run you out of here, but I surely don't want any of you walking home too late. You never know what's lurking in the dark." Elena shivered at those words.

Jeremy walked in then, followed by John and Giuseppe. John went straight to his room without saying a word. Giuseppe watched him go for a moment, and then turned his attention to the room, pasting a smile to his face. "Good evening, all. Had I known Miss Katherine was going to throw a party, I would have arranged for better food to be served."

"They came on their own, Mr. Salvatore," Katherine smiled. "For your son. He's quite popular."

"Of course," Giuseppe said with a bow to the ladies. "My son and I thank you."

Jeremy slid unnoticed into the room, joining Victoria in the corner. He took her hand and gave it a small kiss, to which she replied with a small smile, before sitting down. Elena looked away before she got caught staring. Jeremy had told her he was going to ask Victoria's father for her hand soon. It was only a matter of time, but with Stefan's attack, he had decided to wait. Though he didn't know what the council really was, he was desperate to be a part of it, and an engagement might make that hard for him.

Elena frowned. His face was clear of any worry. It was as though he had never died, and according to him, he hadn't. Katherine didn't allow him to remember, and sometimes Elena wished she wasn't allowed to either. She and Stefan had started talking regularly now. She liked to sit with him when she was doing her needlework or when she was reading. They both enjoyed each other's company in place of Damon, and they could talk to each other freely about vampires and other risky things. He'd told her of his and Katherine's affair, and even trusted her enough to relay the information his father was giving him from the council.

Giuseppe began speaking once again and pulled her from her thoughts. "You all should get home soon," he said seriously.

"I was just saying that," Katherine said. "It's no fun to cut the party short, but it's just how things are until you big, strong men can get your hands on that killer."

Giuseppe laughed like a schoolboy talking to a pretty girl. "Don't worry, ladies. We will."

* * *

><p>The house was quiet. Elena sat, as she liked to, next to at Stefan's bedside, working yet another pair of socks. Stefan sat bored, as he always did. Katherine had healed him quickly after she bit him, but compelled his nurse to keep treating him as she normally would. The only entertainment he had was pretending to be ill and wounded for those who didn't know. Elena almost pitied him, but she sometimes wondered whether he was doing this all willingly. John, Giuseppe, and Jeremy had gone out once again, as they did every morning. "They meet up at the Town Hall," Stefan explained. "John searched through the rubble and found every piece of paper that would help. They don't have much, but they're not calling off the search. They've been sending out men armed with stakes to try and find the vampire who bit Jeremy, but they haven't found anything so far."<p>

"Then the vampire is getting smarter," she replied, not taking her eyes off of her work. "He's left or he's found another way to feed himself."

"Is Jeremy well?"

"He doesn't remember a thing, but he's set on making his way into that stupid council. John won't let him inside the meetings, so I can't imagine what he does all day when he goes with them."

"Do you think he'll figure it out?"

"I have no doubt. He's as stubborn as I am. He wants to know what's going on."

She was just about to say something else when she heard the sound of rushed footsteps up the stairs. She set her work down at Stefan's side and got to her feet, but Katherine burst in before she could open the door. Worry lines carved her forehead and her mouth was in a pointed frown. "_Sit_," she ordered. "We have a problem." In her hand, she held onto a yellowed envelope tightly. She handed it to Stefan, but kept her eyes on Elena. "_You are going to be calm, Elena._"

Elena nodded, and she already felt her muscles turning from stone to soft clay. She let out a breath. "What is it?"

"It's Damon."

Again, she felt the same disconnect that happened every time Katherine compelled her. Her muscles felt on the brink of tensing and her stomach felt as though it wanted to jump and tumble, but it had lost its legs. She tried to process her emotions as just thoughts, but panic didn't translate. She could only stare blankly, rigidly. "Is he dead?"

* * *

><p>-17-<p>

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: A bit of a transition chapter here, I know, BUT I'm finally done with finals! Hoorah! Now I begin my descent into history classes upon history classes, but before, I plan to spend my break lazing away and hopefully spitting out a few chapters for you all. I do believe that we are now on the downhill journey of part one. Can you guess what will happen? Will Damon survive? Will his love fore Elena thrive? Is he _ever_ going to lose that pesky virginity of his? You'll see very soon. Or will you?_

_That's all for now. Love to all of you who are still sticking around. xo_


	18. Chapter XVIII

**Part I**

**Chapter XVIII**

**1864**

**Somewhere Outside of Mystic Falls, Virginia**

On a particularly cold day in December, a squeaking wagon made its way over the uneven roads as it traveled toward the small town of Mystic Falls. Before, the old rattletrap had been used to cart away bodies and injured men from the battlefield. If one were looked closely, they might have noticed the faint bloodstains on the floor and sides. Someone else might still be able to smell the metallic scent of vomit that had sunken into the cracks of the old wood and festered. One gifted with those supernatural abilities of seeing and hearing beyond might even hear the screams of men grasping at limbs that they would soon lose. Or perhaps they would only hear the stillness of death, or a limp hand dragging through the dirt and mud as the wagon headed back to camp.

It was unlike any of those days, though, when Alaric Saltzman looked sadly at his best friend who lay limp across the length of the cart. He was dressed in full uniform, and looked much worse than when he first arrived. Now, the soft gray fabric was stained around his midsection and Ric worried for the hundredth time whether or not that stain was smaller when they left camp. Dirt and liquor also stained his clothes. His face looked sunken in, even though his body looked harder and broader than before. His skin was pale, and maybe even a bit yellowed, but Ric couldn't tell if that was because he had looked at him for so long. Instead of wide, curious eyes trying to see everything around him, or looking at something unseen to everyone else, in a dream, perhaps, they looked as though they were fighting to stay open. The red veins of sickness and fatigue had dulled the sharp blue of his irises. His eyebrows were drawn together in discomfort, revealing the dirt stuck in the creases of his skin.

Ric spoke to the man driving the wagon. "How much longer?"

"The town is on the horizon," the man replied. "We'll be there before nightfall."

Ric sighed with relief and he relaxed a little. When they left a week ago, Damon still had a hole shot through his abdomen, but he was laughing and talking. The doctors and nurses, who were incompetent in treating anything in any way other than sawing wounded limbs from bodies, rejoiced when they saw Damon survive his injury. They fed him cheap liquor and he allowed them to dig the bullet from his belly. Still, he was unwell, and although they said if he lived, he might fight again, they were more concerned about the fight already ahead of him.

Under Elijah's authority, Damon was granted furlough, where he would be allowed to recuperate at home, thus saving the Confederacy much-needed supplies and food, and allowing him to die with his loved ones if things went badly. Ric was given the mission of delivering Damon to his family, along with his furlough papers. A week ago, Damon would joke about how this living situation was worse than the one at camp, but now he couldn't even form coherent thoughts.

While Ric worried about of his friend's deterioration, Damon's mind ventured into other galaxies. He thought of his mother and how she detested the cold weather. He imagined her coming down from the heavens and wrapping arms made of sunlight around him, but then he would come back to reality and realize it was just his fever. Sometimes he would slip further into the depths of sickness and imagined the cold trying to penetrate his skin was his father, and he was struck with the question of whether his father was trying to use the cold to break his fever or if he was just trying to finish him off.

Elijah's words bounced around his brain. "_It's odd that you ended up here." _Wasn't it, though? It struck him at that moment that everywhere he had ended up in his life had been odd.

Of course, his thoughts often drifted to Elena as well, whom he realized, when he was coherent enough, was getting closer with every dull thud of his heart. When he was at his most delirious, and no longer had the mental strength to exercise that precise control over himself, his mind would wander to places he had never allowed it to go. He would find himself thinking of her billowing skirts and how he would like to slide his hand up into them and see what he could find. Other times he could picture her standing in front of him as he undid her corset stings, watching her relax a little with every move he made until it was just the bare skin of her back showing. His mind would wander to other things, like the night she visited him in her night-dress and he liked to think of the way it would fall to the floor, leaving her standing there, completely open to him. He could picture the blush on her cheeks perfectly. He could see every bump on her skin rise from the cold touching her. God, he wished he could touch her, if only to hold her hand. The thought made his heart stutter.

Ric leaned down from his place on the bench to put a hand on Damon's shoulder. "We're almost there, kid," he said. "Damon? Can you hear me?"

* * *

><p>Elena looked up impatiently from her book and towards the window, biting down on her lower lip. Since Katherine had delivered the news of Damon's injury and impending return two weeks ago, she had not been able to keep her eyes from the window. Even though she didn't know where he was, she knew Damon was not far away. She could only reassure herself by reminding herself that she would see him soon. There was a mix of anxiety and joy inside of her. Although Damon was coming home, he had been injured in a way that many men did not survive. His survival for this long had already been a miracle, in fact, and now the only thing anyone could do was wait to see if he made the trip home.<p>

When she first heard the news, she wanted to go wait by the road that entered town so she would be the first to see him, but both Katherine and John had forbade her from doing any such thing. Instead, she found excuses to do activities near the front of the house, so she would always be close by a window should he return that second.

The window she gazed from that day actually faced the back of the house and now she only looked there out of habit. Katherine had shooed her out of the parlor earlier, and so she joined Stefan, where she could freely worry and fidget.

He followed her gaze and shut his book softly. "Won't be long now," he said.

"You think I don't know that?" she snapped. Immediately, she wished she could take it back, but she had been on edge like this for a long time. Stefan was growing used to it.

"I just wish you would stop worrying," he said. "It only makes it worse for you."

"What if he doesn't make it?" she said, her voice becoming shaky. "What if he doesn't survive the trip? It's too cold out and he's already suffering."

"He's survived this long."

It wasn't a new argument they were having. They'd gone over it many times, but each time they both grew quiet in stalemate. Each was worried about the same thing, but only Elena was brave enough to admit it. Just as she opened her mouth to say something else, there was a knock at the front door. Stefan threw his quilt off, but Elena stood to stop him. "You've been attacked, remember?" she said, eyeing the bandage on his neck where nothing but clean skin and useless ointment hid.

He sat down with a huff, but she didn't turn to see his dirty look as she flew down the stairs, holding the rail with both hands so as not to fall. Katherine had appeared behind her at some point, but she didn't care. She threw open the door only to find the face of a stranger, not Damon. "Hello," he said, awkwardly. "I'm Private Saltzman. I was assigned to escort Private Salvatore from our camp."

The man was attractive. He was older than Damon, but more ruggedly handsome. Elena looked him up and down for a moment, expecting him to show her where he was, but when he only stood there, she shoved past him and towards the wagon. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard Katherine apologizing for her behavior.

Damon sat with his eyes closed and his legs hanging off the back of the cart. His head leaned against the wood that held up the cover fabric. She gasped audibly at the sight of him. Aside from being shot, he looked sickly and malnourished. His body had changed since before he had been shot, and was slowly shrinking from lack of food. Tears came to her eyes and she realized everything he had told to her in his letters was a lie to appease her worry. He knew she would have been upset if he had told her of the conditions he was really facing.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek and burying her face his neck. She could only do it for a moment, lest she get into trouble, but she had to make sure he was really there.

Even though he was unaware any of this was even real, he wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could manage. The scent of lemongrass and clean linen filled his nose. He felt tears well up in his eyes as he grasped at this illusion, wishing so desperately for it to be real. All he could hear were her quiet assurances, but he had heard them so many times in the past few days he could only brace himself for her to fall away into his subconscious, leaving him to be awakened by the bitter cold and harsh sunlight. "Damon?" he heard. "You'll be just fine now, Damon. You're home."

And just in case it wasn't just his imagination and just because he was so desperate to say it, he tried to focus on her beyond his spotty vision. "I love you, Elena. I hope you didn't forget that I love you so."

-18-

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><p><em>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, there you have it, folks. Of course he didn't die! This is a Delena fanfic and if I'm going to kill off my main characters, it certainly won't be within the first part! Or would I? I hope you all enjoyed and I can't wait to hear what you think. Thank you all so much for your support. xo<em>


	19. Chapter XIX

_AUTHOR__'S NOTE: Hi, guys! Just a quick note before the chapter: I combined two of my earlier chapters (II and III), so now the chapter numbers are a little off. I hope this doesn__'t cause too much confusion and I promise to never do it again __– IT WAS A HUGE PAIN IN THE ASS. Anyways, enjoy._

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><p><strong>Part I<strong>

**Chapter XIX**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Even in the comfort of his own bed, there were times when Damon couldn't distinguish between real life and the battlefield. He sat between two fields of consciousness. In one field, he hovered in a semi-alert state. The pain burned in his belly like fire. He would groan, but he never moved. In some ways, he felt he was bargaining with his own body to numb the pain. Whoever watched by his bedside – usually Elena, who looked like some celestial guardian - would reach for the whiskey on the side table and pour it into his mouth generously. Then, he could only wait for the liquor to blind him in drunkenness or put him back to sleep. He couldn't tell if he was simply growing used to the taste or if his body was actually being trained to associate the burn in his throat with the dulling of the pain.

On the other side, he drifted away from the warmth of his sheets and found himself on the battlefield once again. Sometimes he would see the men he had killed. One would think it impossible to forget the face of a man who died at one's hands, but Damon learned otherwise. Of the men he killed - eleven, he thought – though he wasn't sure, he remembered very few of their faces. At the moment, it all happened too fast. So, when he looked upon the faces these ghosts, they often didn't have faces. He'd go against men who were unarmed, and though he could not explain why, would beat the man with whatever was in his hands, sometimes just his fists. The man would beg for mercy, but Damon would not stop. Perhaps it was fated for him to be a murderer, even in his dreams.

In other illusions, he would spot Elena walking across the battlefield. She stood out, gliding across the carnage, her pale blue dress unstained by any of the blood covering the ground around her. It wasn't until he got closer that he realized her chest shook and heaved. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at the bodies around her. She brought her wet eyes to his. "Damon," she sobbed. "Damon, we must help them!" All he could think was how he couldn't stand to see her cry. He rushed forward, trying to comfort her in his arms, but she resisted. "It was you who killed them, wasn't it?" She backed away from him as though he were a monster. "How can you live with yourself?"

Even though he wasn't entirely coherent, the irony of him hardly being alive at that moment didn't slip by him at all.

As Elena looked down on this once beautiful man, she wondered if this was how his corpse would look. The life in his skin had drained away. The only color she could see was the redness in and around his eyes from crying. God, his cries of pain stabbed her heart like knives. When the nurse pulled the bedclothes back to check his wound, the spot revealed a rainbow of blues and yellows where broken veins leaked under his skin. Dried blood was caked under his fingernails from him scratching at himself and occasionally the hole in his abdomen. He was a nightmare, neither living nor dead. Some of the things about him still looked like a dream. Behind the redness of his eyes, was the blue that had washed over Elena so many times. Some days, when he was feeling well enough, they would look at her like they always did, with that shining reverence of a man in love. Mostly though, they shifted around, as though the spirits in the room were calling to him. The hair on his face had grown out a little. The nurse wouldn't permit him to move from his bed and shave, but Elena liked it. The rest of his hair had also grown long, even though most of the time, it was stuck to his face by the sweat from his fever.

Katherine had compelled her, of course, to feel no pain from this. When Elena looked down on him, she could only feel anger. She did not want to feel happy or calm as she waited second after miserable second to see if he would live or die. She did not want to be angry either, yet it seemed that anger was the only emotion she had left. It was the only negative emotion she was allowed to feel, so she sat, her book untouched in her lap, and brooded over the unfairness of it all. All of the noise and false emotion crowded in her head like a piano playing out of tune.

Elena was usually left alone with these thoughts. The compelled nurse had released Stefan, yet he was always too busy with Katherine or his father. Jeremy would sit with her sometimes, but he didn't understand any of it. He couldn't. John would check in, as did Katherine, but they had other things on their minds. He was too busy plotting against the vampires and she was too busy running fast enough to stay two steps ahead of him. Giuseppe never showed his face in that room. Not once. The nurse was seldom away from Damon, but she was too busy caring for him, to ever speak with Elena.

One day, when Elena was especially angry at the world around her, it was Damon who tried to lift her spirits. He wasn't well, but he was coherent and denied any liquor long enough for him to be able to speak with her. "I see you a little every day," he said, "yet I miss you still." She leaned forward and took his hand, hoping it would comfort him in some way, although she could see the pain clearly etched on his face. Apparently he saw the pain on hers as well. "What's wrong?" he said.

She could not tell him exactly what was wrong, couldn't reveal to him her fears, couldn't let him know that he'd heard Giuseppe speaking to John about the best type of wood used in coffins, and certainly couldn't let him know of her anger. He didn't have the strength to worry about her now. Instead, she shrugged and put a smile on her face. It was easier than she thought it would be and again anger jabbed at her stomach. It shouldn't be so easy to be happy.

As if reading her mind, or part of it, at least, he gestured to the table by his bed. "Would you help me, Elena?" She turned quickly to help him, fearing he would try to do it himself. "In the first drawer," he instructed. She opened it, but only found a stack of papers bound together by rough, brown string.

"This?"

"Yes. Would you hand that to me, please?"

She did, and he undid the string slowly. The papers all fell apart quickly as he did so, and she realized they were mostly letters. "Are these…"

"Yours," he finished. "And some other things I thought would be important."

She smiled a little. "Are you looking for one in particular?"

He nodded, "A piece of paper… folded I think. It won't be addressed to anyone." He found it before she did and grabbed it from the pile. "Read it," he said.

The paper was yellowed, and looked as though someone had spilt coffee on it in the top left corner. It held multiple blanks filled by someone who wrote the words by hand. It read:

**To all Whom it may Concern:**

The Bearer hereof __Damon Salvatore__

_a _private_ _in Captain __Mikaelson's__ Company, _19_th__

Virginia Regiment, Co. A., Army of Northern Virginia, CSA, __is _hereby permitted to go to __Mystic_Falls__

in the County of __Albemarle_ _State of Virginia,

__he_ _having received a **FURLOUGH **from the __6th_ _day of __December, 1864__

until __further_notice__, 1865, at which period

__he_ _will rejoin __his_ _Company and Regiment at **CAMP STONEWALL**

or wherever it then may be, or be considered a Deserter.

**GIVEN **under my hand at Camp Stonewall,

this __6th__day of __December_1864__.

__Elijah_Mikaelson__

Captain _19_th__Reg. Va. Co. A., Army of No. Va., CSA

She looked up from the letter to find him giving a weak, yet still smug, smile. "Do you understand now?" he asked. "I've only been given a furlough so I can heal properly at home with my loved ones. With you. Once I'm better, I'll go back, serve my three years, and this will all be over and done with."

Her eyes sank back down and ran over the same bit over and over. "_Until further notice, 1865." T_hat blank wasn't supposed to say "further notice." It was supposed to have a specific date. Otherwise it wouldn't say 1865. Her cheeks grew red.

_Are they just trying to let him die with some dignity? Is it better to die in service? Does that make him special? Perhaps they really are just unsure of when he will be better. He's been severely wounded. No one can guess when he will get better. _"You're right," she said, and she couldn't tell if it was a lie. "I'm sorry for being so pessimistic."

He smiled and brought her hand to his lips, "See? Everything is just fine, my love."

A few days later, she crept nervously down the hall to his room. The day before, he had been in such good spirits. Some color had returned to his cheeks and he was flirting and being the Damon she had not seen since he left. This meant that there was a series of bad days around the corner – that was the way of this illness. She opened the door slowly, in case he was asleep, but when she finally got a view of his bed, she realized he wasn't there. Her stomach dropped as she swung the door open, looking for some sign of him. "Damon?" she cried.

There was a quiet whimper from the other side of the bed in response. She rushed to find him lying on the floor. The metallic smell of blood assaulted her and she felt bile rise in her throat. He lay sprawled out on the floor, blood spilling from his wound and onto his nightshirt. A puddle of some liquid surrounded him and for a moment she thought he had soiled himself, but then she saw the overturned basin next to him. "I just wanted to wash my own face," he sobbed. "I thought I could do it."

"Help!" she cried, finally. "Someone! Help!" His red hands shook as he held them over his gushing wound.

She fell to her knees and took his face in her hands, trying to get him to respond, but he was just babbling to himself. "I didn't want to do it…"

She heard footsteps crashing up the stairs. "It's all right, my love," she cooed through her tears. "We can wash your face later."

"My face!" he shouted. "I need to wash my hands! Look at them! Their blood is all over my hands!"

"Whose blood?"

"Please don't be angry with me," he begged. "I had to kill them."

Her eyes widened, but before she could question him further, the commotion had drawn people inside. John, Jeremy, and Stefan looked into the room. It wasn't long before the nurse was there, too.

"Go get Giuseppe," John instructed. "He's in the barn."

She looked down at Damon one last time before parting. "Everything is fine, my love." She prayed those words were able to reach him, wherever he was.

Giuseppe was exactly where John said he would be, calmly running a brush through his horse's mane. "Sir!" Elena exclaimed. "Come quickly. It's Damon."

He glanced at her dismissively, unshaken by her physical state and her words. "Isn't it always?"

"You don't underst-"

"I understand perfectly."

"Sir," she tried again, but her breath was growing ragged from holding back an angry sob. "He's dying!"

"He's been dying, my lady. You know that."

She looked at him in disbelief. How could he be so callous? So uncaring? "You won't come to say goodbye?"

"I said my goodbyes long ago."

Images of the bruises Giuseppe gave Damon flashed before her eyes. "He's your son."

"Thankfully," he said, finally looking her straight in the eyes, "I have another."

-19-

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><p><em>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to everyone who is reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting. As always, it means a lot. BIGGER thanks to my beta reader, Natchez! You can find her link on my profile.<em>

_See you all soon. xo_


	20. Chapter XX

**Part I**

**Chapter XX**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

As Elena watched the love of her life dying, there was nothing she could do but give him more and more liquor, hoping that even though he was drooling all over himself and speaking like a man in a brothel, he was distracted from his pain.

"Oh, Elena," he slurred. Each of his words came out with a whiskey stained breath. His sentences were riddled with little hiccups and pauses now and again. He was so drunk, she wondered if the real Damon was even there anymore. "Elena, Elena, Elena."

"Yes?"

"You e-ever get that feeling where you're so happy that your teeth grit… grit together and your head s-starts to hurt and your chest gets all tight and your fists get all fight-"

"Fight?"

"Tight! I mean t-tight. So, you're fists are all tight and you just feel like you'll go off like a cannon? You ever feel like that?"

The corners of her mouth turned down harder and her face got hot. Willing back tears, she tried to remember the last time she was genuinely happy – a time when she wasn't worrying about Damon or vampires. Before Katherine stated playing with her memories and emotions like they were toys. Damon continued on as though she had answered him. "Why do you think that happens, hmm? Why does my body want to explode when I'm happy? Does it think I won't get any happier?"

She brushed a tear from her cheek, hoping he didn't see. "Is that how you feel now?"

"I'll tell you when the liquor wears off," he smirked.

Just then, the nurse walked in, a worried look on her face. "No more of that," she said sternly, gesturing towards the bottle in Elena's hands. "Help me change his wrappings."

Elena nodded and stood quickly, setting the bottle on the table at Damon's side. They pulled back the bedclothes and the nurse adjusted his legs so they were straight. Apparently, being mortally wounded removed the suspicion of impropriety because now Elena unbuttoned his trousers and slid his shirt up his chest, revealing more of him than she ever should have seen before they married. Elena grabbed his hand as the nurse peeled back the white bandages covering his wounds. Damon groaned a little, but another sound caught her attention. She heard the front door open and slam shut, followed by almost inaudible sounds of footsteps flying across the floor. A second later, Katherine appeared in the doorway, her hair tumbling from its pins and her eyes wild. "_Leave_," she said to the nurse.

"Wait!" Elena called, looking down to the bloody flesh that just sat exposed now. But it was too late; the nurse was gone.

It was then that Stefan entered as well. His cheeks were red and he was breathing hard. Katherine shut the door behind him. "How is he?" he asked.

"Not now," Katherine chided.

"You have news?" Elena asked uneasily.

"They hanged two men and one woman," Stefan said. "Slaves."

Elena's cheeks grew red. "On what charges?"

"Conspiracy to commit murder," Katherine said, looking irritated. She gazed at Damon's partially visible lesion. It had been too long since she fed, and even with the smell of rot in her nose, her mouth watered. "The council knew they couldn't be vampires because they walk in the sun, so they thought the threat of death would make them offer up whatever information they had."

"Did they even have anything to do with the murders in the first place?"

"They were witches," Katherine said. "If anything, they would have been trying to keep the vampires away."

"Does the council know even about witches?"

"They were just looking for a scapegoat," Stefan said. "They needed something to keep the townsfolk calm. They don't have anything."

"Yet." Katherine said, her eyes looking between both of them shiftily. "I can't stay here much longer."

"What?" Stefan asked, and it was clear that he had never even thought of the possibility of her departure before.

"They've found witches, whether they know it or not. Now three of them are dead and they're going to do whatever they have to protect their own, including revealing any vampire within a hundred miles. I'm not safe."

"You can't leave," Stefan said.

"Not while the real criminal is still out there," Elena added.

"I have to leave _because_ the real criminal is still out there. I don't have any choice."

Elena bit her lip. Of course, she wanted the protection that Katherine provided, but when she really thought about it, Katherine wasn't all that protective of anyone but herself. If she left, things would return to normal and the council would catch the mystery vampire or it would grow tired of Mystic Falls and move on as well. "Where will you go?" Elena asked.

"So quick to get rid of me, aren't you?"

"If you must go, then I'd like to know where."

"That isn't important right now."

"You can't leave," Stefan repeated.

Katherine softened a little, moving to Stefan's side. "What else am I to do?"

"Stay."

"Stay!" Damon shouted from his bed. "That's what they all say. They say stay. 'Stay!' they say. But nay. I say 'nay' to stay."

Elena took his hand, "Please, Damon. I need you to be quiet. Can you be quiet for me?"

"Quiet?" His voice was weak, but grew louder with each word. "Elena, I'm a regular fuckin' poet! I can't be quiet!"

Her stomach dipped a little, but she was growing used to his drunken vocabulary. Katherine laughed.

"He's dying, you know." Elena felt that anger leaking into her stomach once again. "You're laughing while he's dying."

"He's not dying," Stefan said. "He just needs time… to heal."

"Oh, he isn't?" Elena pulled back the covers a little more to give Stefan a better view of his wound. The hole was dark brown from a mixture of fresh and dried blood. White pus leaked in the center from the infection. The surrounding veins were dark under his skin. The smell was thick in Elena's nose, but she jutted her chin out against it. She wanted both of them to see it. To smell it.

She wished she could feel the hurt she saw in Stefan's eyes. She only felt ferocity towards the two people who would rather spend their time sneaking around in the candlelight than care for him at all. "Thank _you_, Doctor Salvatore, for the diagnosis. I appreciate you making a house call so early in the day. Would you like to change his bandages too? It's not like you've even seen them since he's been home." At that, she grabbed fresh ones from the bedside table and began to clean and bandage him herself.

Stefan ducked his head guiltily. "I didn't know."

"I expected as much from your father, but you?"

He stiffened at that, "You don't know anything about our father."

"I know enough. I know that _you_ know exactly what I mean."

Katherine shot him a questioning glance. He had never told her anything unpleasant about his father.

"Just leave," Elena said through her teeth.

"Katherine," Stefan said. "You can help. You can heal him like you heal me. It's simple."

Elena's head snapped up. "You can do what?"

"Her blood," Stefan went on. "Her blood can help him."

"I told you before," Katherine sighed. "I can't afford to do that. Not with the head of the Founder's Council living in the same house as I. A recovery that rapid is just too suspicious."

"You could have healed him this entire time?" Elena thought back to the time Katherine caught her putting her ring on Damon's finger when she worried he wouldn't last another minute. "Put your ring back on, Elena. There's no hope, dear." Her ring could only save someone from supernatural death, she explained.

_There's no hope, dear. _That was all she heard.

"You knew he was dying, didn't you?" Elena stood again, approaching her 'aunt' with clenched fists and fire in her belly. "A dead thing must be able to sense other dead things. You could hear his heart struggling to pump that infected blood around his veins. You could smell the rot on his skin. You knew."

Katherine backed up a little.

"Do it!" Elena shouted. "Fix him! Now!"

Before Elena knew what was happening, Katherine's hand was around her throat and her back was against the wall. "You've stepped on dangerous ground," she growled.

"What will you do?" Elena challenged. "Suck me dry? Rip out my heart? You can't even afford to heal someone, let alone kill another."

For the first time, Elena saw the beast inside of Katherine. Never before had the monsters in the dark been real to her, even when Jeremy had been attacked. All of her fear had been so buried before, but now as she stared into Katherine's bloodshot eyes and watched the teeth slide from her gums, she felt real fear. It rose from the depths of her stomach up and into her throat. Whatever courage fueled by rage she felt before was gone.

"Katherine," Stefan said timidly. "He's my brother."

She turned back to Elena, who nodded against her grip. "Please," she choked.

She finally let go and bit her hand with a growl. She squeezed her fist over Damon's mouth, the blood falling slowly at first and then quickly. Damon sputtered at first, but opened his mouth after a moment. Elena shuddered. Fear was all she could feel now.

* * *

><p>When Damon awoke, he felt as though he had spent the last hundred years of his life dead. There was a sudden rush of clarity and awareness when he opened his eyes. Early morning light poured in through the curtains, filling the room with dim light. The room smelled like sickness and the mattress below him was molded to his body, but he felt good. He felt strong and limber and for the first time, he noticed how good it felt to bring air into his lungs and stretch his muscles.<p>

He felt something stir between his fingers and when he looked down he realized it was Elena's hand. Her head rested at his side and a mass of curls spilled out on his abdomen. Her face was dark, as if this was the first time she had slept in a long while, but her expression was peaceful. She was in her nightdress and he realized she had probably snuck in the night before. He tightened his grip. For so long, he felt as if he was looking at her from the bottom of a well. Her head would peek over the top and she would shout down to him, but he was too far down, floating in the water at the bottom.

"Elena," he whispered. He was so awake. He needed to sit up, run in a field, take the woman he loved in his arms and spin her around because, God, he was so _alive_. "Elena, wake up."

She sat up with a start, taking in her surroundings with sleepy eyes. "Damon?" She fumbled on the side table for the bottle of whiskey. "Are you all right? Do you need more?"

He smiled. She was more perfect than he remembered. How long had it been? "No, I don't need any more."

She sat up straight as if struck by sudden reality and all the sleep was swept from her brain. "Damon?" He smiled and she laughed like she was going to cry, but he grabbed her face before she could. "You're all right?" she breathed.

"I'm fine," he assured her.

She stood and ripped the covers from his body, tearing the strings loose from his nightshirt and pulling it off. There wasn't a scratch. Not a mark on him. She put her hands where his wound used to be just to be sure, and it had disappeared. She understood now what he was talking about in his drunken stupor the previous night. She felt like she could go off like a cannon.

It was then that she kissed him. She kissed him once and then twice and then she was kissing every inch of his face and laughing like a maniac. This was the moment she had dreamed of from the moment he left her. This was the moment he dreamed of from the moment he met her.

-20-

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><p><em>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Enjoy the happy. While you can. Part I will be coming to a close very soon. xo<em>

_Many thanks to my beta reader, Natchez. Her link is on my profile!_


	21. Chapter XXI

**Part I**

**Chapter XXI**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Miranda Gilbert was a beautiful woman in life and in death. She had some blessings that many lacked. She married well and birthed two beautiful children for her husband. It was she who ensured they were _both _educated in science as well as the arts. She made certain they were classically trained on the piano. She taught them both how to make pastries as well as the art of conversation. She did her best to pass on her traits, along with her love, before her sickness, which struck her down like a lighting bolt splits a tree in half. It was so sudden and strong a force of nature that no one could have prevented it, even if they had seen it coming.

Oddly enough, it was her mother who was on Elena's mind as she slid her fingers lightly up Damon's arms, past his neck and up into his hair. He was close to her now, looking into her eyes, and she could feel a rush to her fingertips. Her mother, of course, had instructed her, though not always plainly, in the duties she would have as a woman on the first day she bled. Elena had learned about running a household, entertaining at parties, caring for the children, and, of course, her responsibilities in the bedroom. Her mother sat her down and gave her an opaque description of what would happen once she shed the white dress. Elena was horrified, to say the least. _The first time will hurt the most_, her mother said, _and you will endure it that night and many more nights after_. When she looked up at Damon, though, she didn't see anything that needed to be endured. Her mother's words weren't making sense anymore - not with Damon.

His eyes were as piercing as ever, but it wasn't their blue she saw; it was the lines around them. Wherever he had been when he was gone had darkened his skin, and the sun had carved lines into the corners of his eyes. It didn't make him look worn as much as it made him look older - like a man. It was as though he wore everything he had seen out there on his face. She drew closer and kissed him tenderly, but only because she couldn't sit under his gaze for another second. She couldn't let him see how nervous she was.

Her thoughts were drawn to the last time they were alone like this, and this time she didn't think of the bruises that covered his torso, but she thought how different everything was now. At the time she had been so careless, so free. She still had champagne running through her veins and all she could think about was how he was leaving her for an old tent and a gun, and soon. There certainly weren't any thoughts of her mother. That night hadn't been that long ago, but she felt like she was still just a girl, then. The thought crossed her mind she might still be a girl now, and he had been a boy not too long ago, but they were changed now. She had seen her brother die and she had watched Damon follow behind him. He had watched hundreds die. He had killed. She didn't know if she was yet a woman, but he couldn't find any childhood left inside him.

It was still very early in the morning, but no one had yet stirred from their beds, so every move either of them made was made carefully. They acted as if one squeaking floorboard would alert everyone to where they were and what they were doing.

Damon forced himself to move slowly. He didn't understand it, but he could feel Katherine's blood racing through his veins. The mixture of that, along with the desire he felt, made him shiver a little. Elena ran her hands all over him as if to learn every plane of his body. She traced and retraced over every muscle and bone until his impression was burned into her fingers. The feeling of her just-barely-there touch raised goose bumps across his skin. He too, was feeling his way through the unfamiliarity of it all. At school, boys talked of women all the time. He wasn't practiced, but he was knowledgeable.

_Never let a man see your naked body_, Elena heard her mother say. _It will only encourage him. _This played over and over as she stripped off the layers of her clothing. First, her dressing gown hit the floor, and Damon's hand roamed the newly naked territory of her arms. He helped her undo the ties at the neck of her nightdress, pulling them slowly and to the side so he wouldn't have to break his lips from hers. It was awkward at first, as they both tried to tug the ties out of the knots and keep close in their embrace. It was Elena who broke away, smiling and blushing. Never saying a word, she pushed him backwards so he was sitting on the bed. She undid the rest of the ribbons herself, opening the front of her nightdress to reveal her bare breasts. She smirked a little as she watched him watch her. He had a look in his eyes that was unlike anything she had ever seen on any man. It was the engrossed fascination of an artist watching his muse. He would widen his eyes just a bit, but never dropped his gaze from her body. She let the gown slide to the floor and she stepped out of it, towards him.

She was totally bare now, standing right in front of him and he gazed up at her as if she were a pagan goddess. He lifted a hand to her belly, pushing it up the soft skin and over her breasts until he could wrap his hand around the back of her neck and pull her face to his. He pulled her closer until she had to climb on to the soft sheets of the bed with him. _Whatever your duty is to your husband, it should be performed in complete darkness_. Elena thought of this as Damon trailed his hands along the streaks of morning light that illuminated her body. She didn't want darkness to mask him from her, or her from him, for that matter.

_You shouldn't make a sound as he huffs away, nor move. Never for a minute embolden him by making him think you enjoy it_. This lurked in the back of her mind when he positioned himself over her on his knees. She lifted her legs up to wrap them around his waist and as he kissed her up and down on every spot, she found her hips and legs had begun to shake uncontrollably. This did not keep her from making what few sounds she could. Occasionally he would run his tongue over just the right spot on her neck, or flick it just the right way over her nipple, that sent a before-unfelt pleasure down her spine. He reveled in it. The way she suppressed a whimper or the way her hips rocked against his in place of a groan brought a smile to his face.

He tried to maintain himself, but every breath, every sound she made pushed him to a dangerous height of excitement. For a moment, he was embarrassed about his hardness, but when he looked into her eyes he saw his bashfulness mirrored in hers. Her cheeks were flushed and she made every movement after careful consideration. He was a little surprised when she stopped rocking beneath him in order to take his hand and bring it carefully between her legs. She never took her eyes off his for a moment, and he pressed his forehead against hers. She drew in a little breath as he explored her body. He was undeniably pleased when he felt the wetness between her legs, proud that he had something to do with giving this woman any pleasure he could. He was unsteady in his movements, unsure of what he was doing, but Elena took his hand once again to help him. She smiled reassuringly as she guided him, exploring herself as well. She directed one of his fingers inside of her slowly, her nervousness clear on her face. She released his hand and let him play, and he measured by her expression what angles she liked and at what pace he should go. When she opened her eyes, she couldn't help but giggle at the look of concentration on his face and the delicate touch of his hands.

She pulled him down on top of her once again and he willed himself to maintain control. It was clear by her face that she didn't want to wait any longer, and his body was telling him that he didn't really have an option. They both pulled at the buttons of his drawers, and while he took control, trying to get yet another pesky button undone, Elena braced herself. There was no going back after this. He finally got it undone and she could hear him slipping his drawers off, but then she was too nervous to look down. His face swam into view and she willed back the tears in her eyes. "We don't have to go on," he whispered, his mouth right by her ear as he feathered kisses on her skin. "I won't if that's what you want."

She brought his mouth back to hers and kissed him gently. It occurred to her this would change things. There was the possibility they could get caught and her reputation would be ruined. And, according to her mother, he would expect this sort of gratification all the time now, but she wanted it as well. There was nothing she wanted more than Damon. What was wrong with that? "Gently, now," she whispered back and he nodded as he sat up.

Looking down at her, he just breathed her in for a moment. She looked to the ceiling anxiously, her lower lip caught between her teeth. He rubbed his hands up her thighs and onto her stomach, pausing there to measure her nervous breaths. She still couldn't look up to him. He bent down to kiss her once more as he gently rubbed the tip of his member back and forth over her folds. She sucked in her breath, smiling a little, and squirmed underneath him. He made a mental note of that. Then, as softly as he could, he sank into her. Her body was rigid and tight around him, and a look of discomfort crossed her face for only a moment. She let out a breath and relaxed a little, but she still didn't move. Slowly, he pulled out and then eased inside again. She turned her head away because she could feel tears welling up again. They didn't come so much from the discomfort – many things were racing through her mind. Happiness because she knew Damon was the one person on the planet she should be doing this with; sadness because now, she was really a woman and she wasn't sure if she was ready to claim that title; anxiety at the thought of who might be lurking outside the door; and of course, the pain.

He was pumping in and out of her faster now, and as he reached his climax, she just felt numb. It was only matter of moments before he started to feel his control slip away. He opened his mouth to moan and Elena slapped a hand over it, reminding him of what was at stake. He buried his head in her shoulder then, and entwined his fingers with hers, a warmth spreading in his belly until he slammed into her one final time, a little harder than he meant to. His body relaxed on top of her and she let out a little sigh, running her fingers through his hair. It was neither bad nor good for her, but she would have done it a hundred more times if it meant she could hold him like this.

For his part, Damon was in a daze. Elena was all there was. She was the smell of honey and lemongrass in his nose. She was the taste of sweat on his lips. She was the heavy breath that filled his ears. She was the soft hair on his face and the warm body below him.

The euphoria left him all at once though, when it struck him that he'd made a mistake. He wouldn't have even realized it had he not heard the men talking around the campfires about their own sexual adventures when he was still at camp.

Elena lay contentedly, her breathing slowly returning to normal, but his began to pick up. The night that Damon had supposedly popped his cherry at that brothel, a man talked about his many liaisons in the army as they made their way back to camp. _You always gotta ask yourself, kid, _'_Did I leave anything behind?' _the man said. This confused Damon, of course. _Like, _the man continued, _when I go stay with one of the fine ladies at the inn, I don't like to leave any of my things behind. I grab my hat and my coat and any other extensions of my being that might be of importance. _Damon looked to Ric for some sort of explanation, but he was laughing too hard to answer. _Jesus, kid. Just don't go leaving a trail of bastards from here to the Mississippi, all right? _He never really understood what the soldier was talking about until just then.

Elena pulled the covers over them both and allowed him to settle back down with his head on her chest. None of these thoughts plagued her. Damon slipped his hand between her legs and stroked up and down her thighs. He could feel his seed running down her legs and on to the sheets and his cheeks turned red. "What are you thinking about?" she asked quietly, as she kissed his hair and stroked his back.

"You, of course."

"What about me?"

"I'm in love with you, Elena."

She smiled down at him. "I'm in love with you, too, Damon."

-21-

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><p><em>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Firstly, I want to thank my beta reader, Natchez! This was the first chapter she edited and it turned out beautifully! She's the person who makes my writing worthy of any of you guys reading, so go check her out. I linked her account on my profile since I can't link it here. She's an amazing beta and writes stories of her own, so do me a favor and go click that link.<em>

_Anyways, there you have it: my first official, down and dirty, nitty-gritty, for-real, smut scene… and I managed it with two virgins in 1864 to boot. I really hoped you all enjoyed it._

_I understand that it wasn't typical, but I had to throw in that part about Miranda. I just had to. I was reading this guide for young brides (dated about 25 years after 1864) and it was HILARIOUS (and also a little sad). The guide basically said this. Get a man. Sex him up that first night. Have sex twice a week, but don't let that lil' bitch touch you anymore than that. By the end of your first year of marriage, you better hope his ass is only expecting any maybe twice a month. In ten years, you've got your kids; don't let him touch you with that dirty dick ever again. Godspeed._

_It was fucking incredible._

_Anyways, I hope you all like… Let me know what you think and as always THANK YOU so much for reading._

_I honestly don't know if any of you even care about these little author's notes, but I'll leave you with an actual quote on a guide for young brides (dated 1890 something). "[When a man approaches his wife for sex in the dark] __There is always the hope that he will stumble and incur some slight injury which she can use as an excuse to deny him sexual access." INCREDIBLE._

_xo_


	22. Chapter XXII

**Part I**

**Chapter XXII**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

The afternoon sun was high in the sky when Damon awoke. Without opening his eyes, he stretched his arms out around him, hoping to find Elena at the end of his fingertips, but no one was there. The room was silent, aside from his own heartbeat. Disappointment was on his face before he even opened his eyes. As he fell asleep earlier, he ran his thumb lightly over Elena's collarbone – already rising and falling slowly – and he thought about waking up to find her still next to him. He could wake her up and watch her eyes open, still drowsy with sleep, and perhaps she would smile a little when she saw him. Or perhaps her eyes would open in panic when she realized where she was and what she had done, but he didn't want to think about that. He wanted to think about the taste of her lips when she gave him one final kiss goodbye. Instead, there was no one but him. The spot where she had lain had grown cold and the smell of her skin had disappeared from the sheets.

The sheets themselves were in dire need of changing, and he wondered if anyone would ask questions when they did. He shrugged off the thought; a massive wound in his body had been leaking all sorts of substances not twenty-four hours ago, so it was possible no one would think twice about it. He leaned over and grabbed his trousers from the floor, but his shirt was harder to find. He finally spotted it peeking out from under the other side of the bed. He knew he wasn't supposed to be healed, so of course, he couldn't leave his room, but the after effects from Katherine's blood in his veins still made him feel a little anxious.

He laid back against his pillows and tried to distract himself with his thoughts. Now that he was healthy, he could go back to the fight, although he didn't know if that was a good thing or not. He hadn't even made a dent in the time he owed the Confederate army before he was shot, so when he went away once again, he would be gone for a long while. He would have to say goodbye to Elena again. The image of her flashed through his mind and the worried knot in his stomach twitched. Perhaps he'd have to say to another new face by the time he left. He pictured a bouncing little boy sitting on Elena's lap. He would have her big brown eyes and his wavy black hair. He would have rosy cheeks and all the love they could offer him. It was a happy image clouded by the thought of what would happen if he were born out of wedlock. Suddenly, the child was taken from Elena's arms and the word 'bastard' tumbled around in his brain. Elena had no family who could raise the child, nor did Damon. Elena would have to leave Mystic Falls to have the child, and might never even see it. He suddenly felt very ill.

Just then, his nurse came in. "Oh, good," she smiled. "You're awake." He went to sit up before she pushed him down. "No, dear! You'll rip open your stitches again." He lay back and watched her with wide eyes as she pulled his shirt up. Nothing was there, not even his bandage, and he looked guiltily up at her. She gasped, "Mr. Salvatore, you've removed your bandages!"

"Well, I don't need them anymore, do I?" he asked, confused.

"Miss Gilbert gives you too much from that bottle," she sighed. "It's a shame to see such a bright-eye go balmy."

She pulled back his shirt once again and began to treat the spot on his stomach as she had every day, taking no notice of the perfectly unharmed skin that sat there now. "I don't-" he began.

"Quiet, dear. You're never to take your dressings off, do you understand? It could make your situation so much worse." His eyebrows drew together in a confused grimace, but he nodded anyway. "You're lucky this time," she smiled sweetly, touching a hand to his forehead. "Your fever has gone down as well."

"Where's Elena?"

"She's at tea with the Donovan girl, talking up her brother, I suppose."

He nodded, "Stefan?"

"He accompanied Miss Katherine into town. She's just announced she'll be leaving soon and she wanted to buy some more winter gowns for when she goes north."

His tongue stuck to the top of his mouth at his last question, and he eventually had to force himself to say it. "What about my father?"

Her hands froze for a moment and he could hear the lie in her voice. "You know how busy he is, dear. It isn't easy being the man of the house."

At that, the door flew open and from around the nurse Damon caught a flash of brown curls. For a moment, he thought it was Elena who had come to see him. "Oh! Miss Katherine, I didn't think you were home." The nurse carefully placed Damon's nightshirt back over his abdomen and lifted the blankets over his chest.

"Stefan and I just returned," Katherine said, appearing from behind the nurse. Her eyes made her look like an animal braced to kill. "I wanted to check on him."

"He's doing better, though that isn't saying much." Damon watched her solemn eyes fall to the floor and he wanted to scream. Had it all been a dream? Was he crazy for thinking he had been healed?

Katherine nodded as though she cared before grabbing the nurse by the soldiers and turning her so they were face to face. "_Go downstairs and check on Stefan._"

"Is he unwell?" she asked blankly.

"_You're just doing it out of the kindness of you own heart_."

The nurse did as told and left the room without another word. She had left her supplies lying scattered on the bed around Damon.

John caught the door just as it was closing. "Katherine," he started, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Damon. "Oh, I didn't realize he was awake."

"It's good to see you," Damon said with a smile.

John's eyes widened. "Oh! You sound so well."

Damon smiled, and Katherine scowled down at him. "He's having a good day, indeed," she said nervously.

It was then that Damon remembered he was still supposed to be ill. He slumped down a little. "I'm feeling some better," he said, feigning a grimace.

John eyed him suspiciously. "I just came to tell Katherine that I'm going to get Elena and escort her home. Damon, I'm glad you're in good spirits."

Katherine curtsied and Damon nodded politely as John went.

As soon as the door creaked shut, Katherine slapped a hand around his throat, slamming the back of his head against his headboard. His eyes widened at the sight of her face that looked like a monster out of a book. His heart pounded and the back of his head throbbed with each beat. "I'm truly shocked at how stupid you turned out to be," she said through gritted teeth.

His throat felt as though it was sealed shut, and he could only reply with a fearful glance.

"I saved your life, did I not? I healed you. I compelled your nurse to care for you still. I brought you back from the brink of hell just to make my niece happy and _this _is how you two repay me?"

He could see the anger pulse below her eyes.

"Do you know what I'm referring to, sweet Damon?" Her expression softened a little and her true face faded away. She brought her free hand to his face and gently caressed his cheek. He knew exactly what she was talking about, but even without her hand secured around his neck, he couldn't have said it. "Can you guess what I found when I came to check on you this morning, Damon?"

_Her_, he thought.

"I take time out of my busy day to make sure you're well and I find my precious little niece laying in _your_ bed like some common whore!"

The last word was like a punch to the gut.

"Do you feel good about what you've done? Hmm? You think anyone will have her if they find out what you've done? You have _ruined _her."

His face was turning red and her fist tightened with each word. It crossed his mind that his neck would snap if she carried on. She seemed to have that thought as well because she finally relinquished him, giving him a minute to choke on the sudden rush of air into his lungs. She pulled his head back to face her by the hair.

"She begged me not to kill you, and I should have. I should have ripped that tiny brain from your skull. I should have castrated you." His stomach dipped. He had never heard a lady talk like this. He had never even heard a man talk like this. "I should have killed you both. It would have been more merciful than letting you both live to see the consequences."

"You told someone?" he said, finally.

"Lucky for you both, I have a vested interest in Elena's future, so I can't kill her myself. As for you," and her eyes glanced over him like she was ready to rip him limb from limb, "she'd do it for me if I ever did anything to you, so you'll see another day. You should be thankful that she's just as weak as her father."

"What are the consequences then?"

"It all depends on when your luck runs out," she smirked, releasing his hair. "If you two decide to do this again and you get caught by someone who isn't as levelheaded as myself, she'll be ruined. If, god forbid, she bears a child because of this, she'll be ruined. Somehow you avoid all of the consequences every time, but perhaps Elena's suffering will be enough for you."

He swallowed hard; only one of those things had crossed his mind before. "But what if I marry her?"

"Your father has discouraged John every time the subject comes up. He says he already has a bride in mind for you."

Damon's stomach sank. There was no bride, of course.

"You have another girl waiting on you and you're leading on Elena as though she was a dog?"

His eyes widened," No!"

She put a finger on his lips. "You've complicated my situation quite severely, you know." She took the finger from his lips and dragged it down his chest onto his belly where the hole used to be. "Perhaps I'm being petty," she sighed, but there was a feral look in her eyes. He watched her nervously to see what she would do. Sweat had formed on his brow and his breathing picked up. Suddenly, she was digging into his abdomen with her pointer finger. She broke through the bandages and the skin and muscle all at once until she could feel his organs at her fingertips. For a moment, he didn't feel it, and then, like a gunshot, agony leaked through out his belly. She smacked her hand over his mouth before he could scream. "It's fine," she purred. "I told you I'd let you live, didn't I? I will heal you just as before, but first I need to see you suffer."

He could feel tears spilling from his eyes. "I'm sorry!" he choked as quietly as he could. "Please! I'm sorry."

"I know you are," she said looking him in the eyes. "You're so sorry, _you won't go near Elena_ _- not if you can help it. You won't tell anyone about what just happened now or earlier in the morning. _Do you understand?"

"Yes," he sobbed. "Please!"

Satisfied, she took the finger out of his stomach and allowed him to drink from her wrist. The sheets were significantly bloodier than when she arrived, but when she left, Damon was in good health – better health, even. The nurse was waiting just outside the door, and Katherine smiled at her sweetly. "You'll need to change his dressings. I'm afraid he's bled through them." The nurse peeked through the door but when she looked back to Katherine she was already walking down the hall. "And throw out those sheets for God's sake!"

* * *

><p>Damon had spent the rest of the day pacing back and forth in his bedroom. Every now and then when he heard footsteps come down the hall, he would quickly jump to his bed and make his face look like a man's who had been shot. Every nerve in his body was alive, even though it wasn't like the first time Katherine had fed him her blood and he exhausted all of his energy with Elena. Now he felt agitated, as though he needed to go everywhere at once. Elena was on the front of his mind at every second, but he couldn't see her. He guessed she wouldn't be coming to see him either.<p>

It was late in the night when he finally felt at ease enough to climb in his bed, although he knew he wouldn't sleep. He stared at the candle that he had left burning across the room. The flame sat almost still for longs periods of time, swaying back and forth just barely and then suddenly something unseen to him would make the flame jump and twitch. He had lost track of how long he had watched it when he heard footsteps in the hall. He sunk down in his covers, closing his eyes and praying his heartbeat would slow when the door opened slowly.

Footsteps made their way across the room slowly and stopped by his bed. Damon resisted the urge to peek, but the silence made him uneasy. Whoever it was dragged a chair all the way up to his bed, and he could hear it creak as they sat in it. Weight shifted on the mattress when they propped their elbows on it. There was a moment where nothing happened and then he felt a drop of moisture hit his arm followed by a sob. Finally, he couldn't resist anymore, and he peeked through the slits of his eyes. His body went cold and stiff. There next to him, with nothing but the candle light to make him known, sat Giuseppe Salvatore, his hands clasped in front of his face as though he was praying.

"Father?" he whispered, though he knew he was supposed to be asleep. Giuseppe jumped backwards with a gasp. Damon threw the covers off of himself to stand and Giuseppe cowered into the corner. "Father, are you all right?"

"No," he said, straightening a little.

"You were crying."

"Yes."

"Why?"

The older man advanced on his son carefully, stopping a few steps away. "I was thanking God that John Gilbert was wrong."

"About what?"

"He said you weren't sick any longer, but when I saw how pale you were and heard the shallowness of your breath I thought he was wrong."

"You want me to be sick?" Damon frowned.

"I'd rather you were sick than a demon."

He looked down at himself to evaluate. He hadn't grown scales or a tail. His voice sounded normal and he didn't have very sharp teeth. "What do you mean?"

Giuseppe reached for the nightstand, grabbing something that Damon hadn't noticed before. It was a stake, he realized. "If you were mortal, you would still be sick, and you would die soon just as any man would."

Damon backed up a little. It crossed his mind that he might be able to call for help, but he realized John was in on this too, and his brother, possibly even Jeremy. There was no one to save him. "I promise you, I'm not a demon."

Giuseppe dove at his son then, the stake braced awkwardly. They struggled for a moment, quietly, and Damon wondered if he would ever see Elena again. "I can't let everyone see the shame you've brought upon this family," Giuseppe grunted. "I won't let you drag us down to hell with you."

Damon fell backwards, trying to think of some way to reason with his father, and it was his hesitation that allowed Giuseppe to plunge the wood through his chest. He stared down at his son as he struggled against the pain, but nothing like what he expected happened. He didn't see a flash of light or see the face of a monster. There was no clap of thunder or some supernatural sign that the mortal man had defeated his immortal foe - only the face of his son collapsing in agony. Blood poured from the wound and onto the sheets, and with each moment that Giuseppe held his weapon tightly in his son's chest, he wondered if all vampires died like this. Finally, when Damon could no longer struggle and the only thing on his mind was the mind-numbing pain of wood splintering in his heart, his father ripped the stake out.

Damon looked back to the candle again, watching the flame dance wildly, but he wasn't thinking about that. He wasn't even thinking of Elena. Only the pain. There were a few more moments where his heart tried to pump, until it finally just stopped, and after fighting to stay alive for so many months, he was dead.

-22-

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><p><em>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey! Long time no see… Just a just a little update: For those of you that have been keeping up with the story, or read the last update at least, then you saw I was looking for a beta. Great news: I found one! Or technically, I guess she found me? Now she's working on reading my latest chapters while simultaneously editing my older chapters. Her username is Natchez (link on my profile) and she is a hero among men. <em>

_I hope you all had a lovely holiday, and I'll see you all soon. xo _


	23. Chapter XXIII

**Part 1**

**Chapter XXIII**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Giuseppe stared down at Damon's corpse, watching the dim candle light dance on his pale skin. His head had fallen to the side, but his eyes were still open. He was so still. Giuseppe threw the stake on the bed next to his body and took a step backwards, trying to collect himself. He needed to get John, but he was afraid to turn his back on it. Damon had risen from the dead once; what was to stop him from doing it again? He kept his back to the wall and slowly exited the room, shutting the door behind him and hurrying off to John's room down the hall.

What he didn't know was the actual vampire in the house was very much alive, technically, and braced to kill anyone who stepped through the door. She considered leaving through her window, but she knew she couldn't leave without Stefan. She put her ear to the wall that divided her room and his, focusing hard. She could hear the sound of his steady breathing, and though she wanted desperately to see him, she knew he would only slow her down. So, as quiet and poised as a cat, she snuck down through the house. She saw Emily waiting at the bottom of the stairs, worry in her eyes. "Something is wrong," she whispered.

Katherine nodded, "Prepare the carriage. We're leaving."

Emily did as she was told immediately, turning to leave. Their carriage was packed with everything she might need should she have to flee on a whim. This had been her custom since the revolutionaries in France had run Katherine out of her home more than fifty years ago. She had been left with nothing - no money and no clothes. All she had was Emily and a stolen horse. They had seen to it they would never be put in that situation again.

In the meantime, John examined Damon's body. He did not have the reaction Giuseppe imagined. He expected there would be some kind of congratulation for defeating their foe, but John only looked down with wide eyes. Before his books had been burned and he had been left with only the bare bones of an idea of what a vampire was, he had read mainly about the killing of a vampire. In some legends, the demon would turn to dust, or contrarily to stone. It was a creature created by magic and it was his assumption that its death would be evidence of that.

Giuseppe stayed on one the side of the room, but John got up close, leaning on the bed to steady himself over the body. He braced the blade he carried in his hand tightly as though Damon's body would spring up at any second. "Were you bitten?" he asked.

"Of course not!" Giuseppe shifted uncomfortably, ready to strip down to nothing if that's what he had to do to prove that he was not going to turn into a monster. "He didn't even try!"

"Did he struggle?"

"For a moment, but it was much easier than I expected."

"Then the legends depicting them with inhuman strength were false." John pulled back the neck of Damon's nightshirt, looking for any bite marks. It was only a moment more before he discovered that the wound on his stomach had disappeared as well. "He had healed, just like I told you." He took a vial of vervain from his pocket and rubbed it on the boy's arm, but the skin reacted as if it was water.

"The demon is gone, then?"

"Perhaps it is expelled from the body before it dies. First the demon goes and then the body can't function any longer without it. Though, he certainly isn't how I pictured a dead vampire." John paused for a moment longer, evaluating Damon's body like a scientist. "Nothing happened after you staked him?"

"Well, he died," Giuseppe said.

John rolled his eyes. "Before that?"

"No, nothing."

"You're sure?"

Giuseppe nodded.

"Curious," John sighed. "The Council will want to know about this first thing tomorrow morning."

"No!" Giuseppe moved forward then, bracing the sleeves of John's shirt. "Please, you can't tell anyone."

"Imagine the shame it will bring to my family! Please! We can announce him dead from his wounds and forget about it all. The town is safe now. That's all that matters."

"You think Damon was the one who murdered those people?"

"Wasn't he?"

Katherine listened to all of this as she quietly ascended the stairs. She needed to change her clothes, but it was so fascinating to listen to the two talk of matters they knew nothing about. She stopped just as she reached the top of the staircase when she saw Stefan walking cautiously towards the room. Her muscles braced, but she kept to the shadows, watching him from afar.

"Damon?" Stefan said as he opened the door. John and Giuseppe jumped and braced their weapons in front of themselves. Whatever sleep that had moments before weighed down his mind was gone when he saw what had happened. His brother's body hung lifeless over the side of the bed, his chest covered in blood. The two men's hands were covered in it as well. His stomach sank and bile rose in his throat. The smell was strong in his nose. "Father?"

Neither of the men could find the words to respond and Stefan rushed forward to his brother's side.

"Damon? Damon can you hear me?" There was nothing, no response. "I don't understand," Stefan breathed. "What happened?"

"He was a monster," Giuseppe said. "He was like whatever attacked you. He even attacked me."

"We know this is still new to you," John added. "We've tried to keep you informed, but it's a lot to take in."

"It wasn't Damon, son. He's gone."

"That's not how it works!" Stefan cried. "You don't understand… Damon wasn't a monster." The men looked at him like he was a madman. "Vampires aren't so different from us. They're still human on the inside. They can live without causing harm. I know! I've seen it!" He'd said too much, but he hadn't disobeyed Katherine's compulsion; he hadn't even mentioned her.

"He's a sympathizer!" John spat.

"No," Giuseppe choked. "No, he's just upset. He doesn't know what he's saying. His grief is speaking for him."

"_I_ am speaking," Stefan growled. He grabbed the bloody stake from beside his brother's body and turned quickly. "You were just waiting for an excuse, weren't you, father? The only thing you regretted about sending him off to war was that you wouldn't get to kill him yourself! Now you have your wish."

Giuseppe scowled, too consumed with his son's words to pay any attention to John, who was waiting for just the right moment to disarm the boy. Before either of them noticed, John dove at Stefan, knocking him to the ground. It was then that Katherine couldn't listen anymore. By sunrise, she would be gone and Stefan would be at her side. There was nothing she had to lose. She burst through the door, scanning the room for him. He slid back away from John's grip, breathing hard. "Katherine," John said through quick breaths. "Go, it's not safe."

He watched in horror as her eyes turned red and her fangs slid out of her gums. "You're right, John. It's not safe." She'd spent a majority of her years assuring that her family was alive, but John was not her family. Her blood did not run through his veins. He was insignificant to her. She didn't even flinch at the sound of his neck snapping beneath her fingers.

Giuseppe watched as he cowered in the corner, praying to God he would make it out of this alive. He could save Stefan. If he could get rid of the demon who had seduced him, he could teach his son the reality of the situation. This didn't have to be the end. He waited until Katherine had turned around to check on Stefan before he snatched up the stake that had rolled near his feet. Her back was to him, and if he was quick and quiet enough, he could end this all. He dove at them both, fearful that if he ran across the wooden floor, she would be able to anticipate him coming. He jabbed the stake at her and felt the tip pierce her skin just it had Damon's. He continued to push as hard as he could while he struggled with both her and Stefan under him. He could hear the bones of her chest breaking under his fist, but the tip of the stake had dulled slightly after he used it on Damon.

Katherine ripped Giuseppe off of her by the back of the shirt, throwing him at the wall across the room with ease. He hit the floor with a dull thud, and when she turned to face him, she saw he had lost consciousness. "Stefan?" she whispered. He squirmed on the floor next to her, facing the wall. "Stefan, come. We can't stay here any longer." Her eyes flickered nervously to Damon's body on the bed. He had her blood in his system, and he would not stay a body for much longer. "Stefan?" Her nose flared at the sweet smell of his blood and she reached down to turn him over. Giuseppe had not staked the vampire, but his son. The wood lodged itself haphazardly but deeply in his lower chest – not even close to his heart. "Stefan!" she cried.

His watery eyes locked on hers, and she could see the pain coming through his irises. Distracted by the panic and the smell of his blood, she could feel her fangs emerge. She shook her head, trying to collect herself before shredding the skin of her wrist with her teeth. She held it up to his mouth but he was already beginning to cough from the blood filling his lung. "Drink, Stefan," she begged. He tried again, but he couldn't get it down. He pulled himself over on his side and heaved up his own dark liquid. "Stefan!" Katherine shouted.

At that, the door flew open and Jeremy entered, eyes wide and flanked by his sister. The two took a moment to study their surroundings. Scared, Jeremy evaluated each body – living and dead – trying to rationalize what was happening. Elena, who partially understood the circumstances, gasped. She left her brother's side immediately to join Damon. Her breath came out in panicked gasps and tears filled her eyes. His body was already colder than it should have been. His eyes were unseeing. The life was gone from within him. Jeremy went to his uncle, the last relative he had besides Elena. The last person he had to take care of him.

Katherine stood, braced for another fight with the youngest Gilbert. He stood too, putting himself in front of his sister. "You're who the council is searching for," he said. It wasn't a question.

"No, and Elena knows that," Katherine said.

Elena did know that, but she didn't know what to make of it all. The sight of four dead humans and one live vampire wasn't convincing her at all that this woman wasn't guilty. "What happened?" she sobbed finally.

Katherine looked to the window. The sun would rise soon, as would the staff. She needed to go. "I don't know," she said honestly. "Giuseppe attacked Damon and that's when he brought John to the room. Stefan must have overheard and come to see what was happening. They accused him of being a sympathizer and John attacked him."

"A sympathizer for what?" Jeremy frowned. He was only fifteen. The council made him wait outside of their meetings and would only tell him so much. For so long, he had desperately wanted to know what he was scared of and now the monster herself was going to tell him.

"Vampires," she said. "I was only trying to protect Stefan." She turned to look down at him. He was only a body now, but she had been feeding on him regularly. He would rise again. Nonetheless, it hurt to see him like that. Somewhere deep down in her chest she felt the dull pain of sadness that had been long buried there.

Katherine could see Elena slide her hand around Jeremy's arm, but she realized it was not to hold him back or to comfort him. Her other fingers remained secured around Damon's as well. She was supporting herself.

"What will we do?"

"They'll come back," Katherine said. "Stefan and Damon are not lost, but we have to go. A carriage is waiting." She was right. Down below, Emily waited nervously.

Elena looked to Damon longingly, but it was Jeremy who spoke. "My uncle?"

"Gone," she said coldly. "There was no saving him."

From behind them, she heard Giuseppe move just slightly. His heartbeat picked up significantly, but he lay with his eyes closed as though he were still unconscious. He didn't have a weapon any longer, but his presence was very dangerous for Katherine. She dove at him, knocking Elena and Jeremy out of the way in order to snatch him up by the collar. His strength was nothing to hers, but he grasped at her neck anyway in an attempt to subdue her. "Succubus," he choked.

"Not quite," she growled.

"I won't let you leave this house," he said, struggling against her. "I let you in and I can ensure that you won't get out."

"You forget that I'm the faster one. I'm the stronger one." Her grip tightened around his throat.

"You won't be able to make it out of here with both of those boys. You won't be able to turn them _both_ into monsters."

"You killed both of your sons, and you call me the monster?"

"Damon was not my son."

She froze at that, as did Jeremy and Elena. For once, a human had caught her off guard. She released him and he fell to the floor with a thud.

"You would just cast him off like as stranger?"

"He was always a stranger," he said, looking defiantly up at her. "In the first year of our marriage, my wife left my house to stay with her sister while she was ill. She lived in another town, but they were so close and she was so heartbroken, that I allowed her to go. It is my biggest regret. Her stagecoach had been attacked and robbed as she was coming home. I was grateful she returned to me alive until she admitted things the robbers had done to her."

Elena cast her eyes down, but Katherine never for a moment looked away from Giuseppe.

"I forgave her because I loved her, but it wasn't long before we became aware that she was with child. It became hard to touch her after the accident. That's how I knew it wasn't mine." He looked at Damon with disgust. "I never understood how she could love it so much. I am a good person. I wasn't going to let it starve, but I never thought she would make me keep it in my own home. I humored her, treating him as my own to protect my image and hers, but he was never my boy. It became even harder to tolerate him when Stefan came along. He is my true heir."

"Was," Katherine said through her teeth.

Giuseppe looked down at his hands. "Stefan always looked a little like me, but Damon was made in the image of his mother. The sicker she got, the harder it was to even look at him. And once she was gone… what was my use for him? All he could bring me was pain." He paused then, holding in a sob. "I never intended for things to be this way. Once Damon was gone at war, I thought everything would be as it should…

Katherine wanted to rip the limbs from his body. Of all the cruel and unfeeling men she had known in her life, Giuseppe Salvatore deserved every bit of anger she could serve him, but she resisted; she had bigger things in store for him. She shoved him back into the wall once again, his head hitting it so hard he was unconscious once more. She turned to face Elena and Jeremy again. "Will you let me go?" she asked.

Elena was ready to let her leave with Damon in tow if it meant that he would come back to her. She would have driven the carriage herself if it would have helped. Jeremy, however, looked at her nervously. "How can I trust you?"

"I only came here to protect you both. I haven't done anyone any harm."

It occurred to Elena that her words were not entirely true, but she still pleaded with him, "Let her go, Jeremy. Please."

-23-

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><p><em> AUTHOR'S NOTE: Mmmmmm whatcha saaaaaaay <em>

_Hello, lovely readers. Just a heads up: my best friend and I are taking the next week off and heading to New Orleans for Twelfth Night! Now, I'm going to go blow every dime I have on gas and booze. I'm going to party and drink 'til I'm numb and fall in love with a stranger for a night (but probably not). Haha! Now the part that concerns you: I doubt I'll get any writing done while I'm gone so the next update won't be until the week after. I'm hoping to find some inspiration and adventure there because a writer is nothing but the sum of their experiences – and I'm certainly not the first to say that. _

_As always, thanks to all of you who are reading. I hope you all are enjoying! Part I is nearly finished as far as I know, so you never know what bombs – or should I say cannons? – will go off. _

_Thanks to my beta reader, Natchez. You can find her link on my profile. She's currently writing a Delena fic featuring human!Damon and human!Elena via 2009. It's excellent so far, so you should give it a read!_

_One last thing: I'm torn between wrapping this story up in 1865, going on for 50+ chapters, or breaking it up into a sequel. Some of you are really turned off at the thought of a fic with more than 20-30 chapters, so I just wanted your opinions. _

_Love to you all. xo_


	24. Chapter XXIV

**Part I**

**Chapter XXIV**

**1865**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

It had been months since that night. That night being the one where only two Gilberts lived, and the fate of one Salvatore was still very much in question. Jeremy was the man of the house now, although he and Elena were still residing in the now eerily quiet Salvatore house while their own was still nothing more than a pile of wood and brick. He was still so young, as was Elena, and it was only because of their family's great wealth that they were allowed to stay. None of their neighbors who had once been so close to their family had even volunteered to take them in. Not with the scandal surrounding their involvement with vampires. Three men, one woman, and a handmaiden were all missing. Damon's room still evidenced the events of that night. Even with the sheets cleaned and the floors scrubbed, there were still bloodstains soaked into the walls and cracks in the floor. No one entered the room now.

Dinners between the siblings were quiet. Each of them sat on opposite ends of the table, quietly clinking their silverware against their plates and avoiding one another's eyes. They kept to opposite ends of the house. Jeremy buried himself within Giuseppe's office, digging through everything he and John had compiled on vampires. He had been inducted into the Founder's Council only days after the incident. They forced him to drink vervain in order to prove he wasn't a vampire. Elena was forced to drink as well, although she was not told why. She buried herself in thoughts of Damon, always watching out a window in hopes that she would see him walking up the path one day. He had never come back to her, as Katherine had promised.

It was February, and the cold had settled into the ground. It snowed every now and then, but it was always freezing. Even when she sat by the fire, Elena could not escape the chill that made her limbs shake and her teeth chatter. On especially frigid days, she liked to imagine Damon coming back to her in the summer, bringing with him the warmth that evaded her shelter and her heart. Thinking of him pained her, but she knew he was out there somewhere. Katherine had promised.

**1864**

**The Wilderness**

When Damon awoke, he was surprised to find himself away from his bed, out of his home, and most distressingly, apart from Elena. It took a moment for him to remember where he was, but it all became clear when he looked down to his torn and bloody shirt. His father's scowling face came to his mind's eye and he remembered the struggle. His father had called him a monster. He had taken a stake to his own son's heart.

Damon stood in a panic, pulling the shirt over his head and throwing it into the quarry. His chest and abdomen were clear of any of the wounds that had previously ailed him. No bruises, no stab wounds or bullet holes, just flesh. He felt quite unlike himself. The sun already hung high in the sky and it made his eyes want to sink back into his skull. There was a pounding in his head and a scratching sensation at the back of his throat. He was hungry. He was also very scared. He didn't remember anything after the altercation with his father. All he knew was that he should be dead.

_Perhaps I've gone to heaven_, he thought. There were trees surrounding him on each time, the peaceful babble of water in the quarry, but there was no one else. _Yet this could not be heaven without Elena, so perhaps I'm in hell_.

He was not in an unfamiliar place. This was the quarry by his home. He spent many of his days here with Stefan when he was younger, so he made up his mind to go back. He walked wearily down the path, keeping his eyes down and away from the sun. He only stopped when he thought he heard someone calling his name. _Elena?_

He turned back, picking up his feet so that they were sprinting over the rock and gravel. He heard her call his name again, only it wasn't her. When he arrived back at the quarry, it was Emily who was waiting for him. She held a horse by the reins. "How do you feel?" she said when he got close enough.

He shook his head. "I look well enough, but I don't think I am."

She smiled at him, handing him the reins. "Your brother and Katherine are waiting for you in Grove Hill."

"And Elena?"

"You shouldn't worry about her now. She's safe."

He nodded, but he wasn't convinced. Grove Hill was in the opposite direction of Mystic Falls, but he wondered if he could just circle back around when he was out of Emily's sight.

"Damon," she said, looking him deep in the eyes. "It's important that you go straight to Katherine. Do not stop. Do not talk to anyone. She's at Grove's Inn; it's right on the outskirts of town. Go there and I promise you can see Elena later."

"Why can't I see her now?"

"Because it's important that you don't harm anyone. Please, do as I say. It's for the best."

He looked down at the reins in his hands, wishing she would give him a better explanation, but he knew if she wouldn't give one, Katherine would.

"Go," Emily said. "You don't have much time."

* * *

><p>When Damon came up on his brother and Katherine at the Inn, he felt ill from being shaken around on his horse for so long. He could barely find the strength to pull himself off of the beast's back and into the relief of shade. His insides felt as though they were vibrating and he looked as though he would jump out of his own skin if someone made an abrupt movement around him.<p>

Although he expected to find some comfort in seeing his brother, he realized he was mistaken when he first laid eyes upon him and the woman who looked so much like Elena. "Brother," he breathed, sinking to the floor against the door behind him.

Stefan sat up too quickly, too stiffly from his chair by the fire. He no longer wore a bandage around his neck as he had before. There was a bounce in his step; an effervescence bubbling within him, and not even the sight of his struggling brother pulled him down from wherever he was. He came to Damon's side instantly, helping him onto his feet and into the bed nearest them. "Careful with him," Damon heard Katherine say. "You're stronger than you know."

"I was worried," Stefan admitted. "I didn't think it smart to leave him at the quarry, but he's back!"

"Emily was there to take care of him, Stefan. You know you can trust me."

"Of course," he smiled.

Damon tried to remain still through their conversation, but something in the room was distracting him. Inside, he felt a buzz within his muscles as though some unseen force wanted them to move. It was a smell, he realized. One he recognized too well. He began to struggle against his brother's arms, his head whipping around wildly in search of the source, but Stefan was stronger than he remembered. When they would play and wrestle out in the yard, Damon's strength always greatly surpassed Stefan's, and rightly so; Damon was twenty-one, four years his brother's senior. Now it was as though Damon's body was locked under the weight of a great stone, one that would outweigh their best cow, or maybe a hundred of them.

Damon didn't care. All he knew was that somewhere in that tiny, dimly lit room with the curtains drawn was that someone inside of it was bleeding, and for whatever reason, he _needed_ to see it.

"Why must he struggle, Stefan?" Katherine put a hand on his shoulder. "He knows what he wants. Let him have it."

Damon's pleading eyes met his brothers, but he couldn't find the words to express just how much he wanted to be free from his grasp. "Please," was all he could muster.

"Shouldn't we explain what's happened?" Stefan breathed.

Damon turned his head to face Katherine. She lifted her fingers to gesture to someone unseen to him. "Come here, pet."

A shadow swept across the room as it passed the fire and stopped next to her. It was his father, he realized, yet he wasn't as shocked by this as he was by the all consuming desire to tear into his throat when he saw blood dripping from it and onto his clothes. A fire lit in his belly and he struggled harder. "I waited for you," Stefan said. "I didn't want to finish him off without you, so I only took a little; just enough to complete my transition. Katherine thought it would be poetic."

Giuseppe didn't respond. His eyes looked straight ahead as though they were unseeing, his arms hung limply at his sides. "Go on," Katherine said, nudging him as if they were old pals. "You're _son_ is hungry."

He did as he was told, approaching both of the boys and leaning forward just enough that they could get at his neck. Stefan watched Damon intently as he leaned closer and closer to the blood. Every muscle in his body ached in the direction of the sticky substance, but he wasn't sure why. He still didn't understand. "Drink," Stefan ordered, but Damon hesitated still. "If you don't, you'll lose Elena forever."

**1865**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Elena hoped Damon was out there somewhere, alive even if she couldn't see him, but she never knew he watched her. When the moon was high in the sky and everyone had put out the lights in their rooms and gone to sleep, Damon would slip quietly through the yards of Mystic Falls and up the tree closest to her window. It reminded him of a time long ago when he would pull himself up onto the balcony of the Gilbert house and deliver her letters he had written. Now, she was much farther away, only a sliver of her arm and chest to be seen by the light of the moon. Her breathing was slow and steady, and she was safe because he would be there to protect her from anything that came in the night.

Katherine was very strict with Damon and Stefan during their first months after transition. She withheld their rings that she claimed would allow them to see the sunlight once again. She spent the long days teaching them how to coerce humans and how to appear like them.

"Don't forget to breathe," she said, and the boys both instinctively inhaled deeply. It had been a long time since either of them did so, they realized.

She was stringent when it came to feeding. They were still in an unsafe situation. Grove Hill was a much larger town than Mystic Falls, and they had no clue whether the town's obsession with vampires was anywhere as frenzied as it was in Mystic Falls, if it existed at all. They had to exercise care in everything they did. They were not allowed to kill, but Katherine was not such a fool to think that there wouldn't be accidents with two new vampires.

So far, Damon had shown great control considering his insatiable blood lust. He quickly mastered the device of compulsion, feeding on someone for as long as their pulse was strong enough to keep blood flowing freely into his mouth, and then sending them on their way. It wasn't as satisfying as when he could feel their blood flow ebb until finally their body was still and their heart stopped, he realized, but he was unfailingly careful, still. Katherine made it clear he would not be able to see Elena until he could control himself, and he knew very well why.

Stefan on the other hand, was not so easily subdued. He'd been incredibly volatile from the second he felt his father's life leak out of him and into his mouth. He'd drained him so completely, that even when the heart no longer aided him by pumping blood into his mouth, he continued to feed on the already stale blood. When he finally stepped back, he realized he'd fed so vigorously, he'd snapped his father's neck. By the new year, he'd already killed three people by accident. Most notable was a little girl, no older than seven, with curly blonde ringlets and innocent blue eyes. He claimed he hadn't even intended to feed on her until she fell and scraped her knee.

Katherine was vexed with him - with both of them, really. Damon was never supposed to be in this picture. He was a lovestruck idiot, but he would have produced an heir with Elena, continuing her line. Now he was an obstacle. He was no longer a suitable option for Elena, yet they would not stay away from each other. There was no doubt about that. Now she faced the choice of killing him or driving a wedge between the two, somehow. The only thing that kept her from sending him straight out into the sunlight was Stefan. He would never forgive her.

As for Stefan, they could never move on from this place and live the life she envisioned if couldn't even control himself around a little girl's scratched knee. His moods were mercurial. He was distraught over his father and in the next second he was on the floor laughing. His sexual appetite was never satisfied, and he and Katherine were often on edge, waiting for Damon to slip off into the night when they wanted some privacy.

She worried they would spend so long in the same city waiting for Stefan to grow out of his capricious behavior that they would get caught. She needed to get rid of Damon, but she feared that the second he had his freedom Elena would be too vulnerable. She finally decided she would allow Damon his protection from the sunlight while she still stayed in Grove Hill. This way, she would be close enough should Elena need her help, and hopefully, Damon's control would falter for just a moment long enough to scare her off. It was a risk, but she had no other choice. Her only comfort was that if some horrible fate did befall Elena, she still had Jeremy to carry on the line. He was not her preferred choice, but he would do all the same.

Damon watched his home from a distance. It was early; the sun was still far from rising. He'd been aggressively warned to avoid Jeremy. "He's involved with the council," Katherine had said the day before. "He's wary of vampires and you can't trust him to keep your secret."

He was so desperate to see Elena that his body shook, but he was also very apprehensive about approaching the home. "Every Salvatore who laid claim to that house is dead," Katherine explained. "Nothing can keep you out, even though you're not invited."

"But our uncle will arrive to claim the estate soon," Stefan reminded him. "Then you'll be locked out again."

Now he worried that his uncle would be waiting for him behind the front door. His uncle Zachariah, who some called Goliath and who made his father appear as though he sipped morphine throughout the day. Even with his newfound strength, he questioned whether he would be able to stand against the man.

He sucked in a nervous, and completely unnecessary breath, running at full speed to the door. He was there in a second and even though he was nervous, he knew he could not loiter outside. He stepped over the threshold without a problem, and ascended the stairs without a sound. He wasted no time looking around, going straight to Elena's room and closing the door behind him. A black dress she had worn the day before lay on the floor. He thought it odd that it hadn't been put away, but it became clear why when he saw her face.

She slept still, her eyebrows drawn together as though she were having a bad dream. Deep circles shadowed her eyes and her mouth was turned down at a hard angle. Without his newfound sight, he wouldn't have noticed that her nails had been chewed down to the quick. He could smell the dried blood that was caked under them. Her hair was a mess of curls, some falling into waves. Half of it was up and half of it was down. She must have sent her handmaid away before she got ready for bed the previous night.

These things were all unimportant though, as he focused on her heartbeat and tried to ward off the feeling of circulation being cut off from under his eyes. Something was off. He could hear her heart collapse with a _thud_, pushing blood from its chambers, and then fill up again with another _thud_, but then there was a third sound that threw off the steady beat of her pulse. A third and much quieter _thud_. He focused hard and all the thoughts of bloodlust drained from his body as the color did from his cheeks. It was the sound of another heartbeat.

-24-

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><p><em>AUTHOR'S NOTE: I didn't think I was going to get to post this week, but I did a lot of writing on the way up to NOLA. Thank you all so much for your support, guys. <em>

_Don't forget to show my beta reader, Natchez, some support. The link to her profile is on mine and she's currently writing her own Delena fic featuring human!Damon._

_Talk soon! xo_


	25. Chapter XXV

**Part I**

**Chapter XXV**

**1865**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Damon ran. He wanted so badly to linger, to wake his love and to see her face when she realized he had come back to her, but the dissonant sound of two heartbeats chased him from the room. The sun had still not crossed the horizon, but the blue light of morning had spread across the yard. How long had he stood there before he fled? He couldn't say. The look of her face was too much in every way; when he finally saw it in person, he was filled with such elation that it scared him. The smell of her perfume was too strong in his nose, no longer bringing the comfort it usually did. The sound of her breath was too heavy, although he had just hours ago been desperate to hear it.

It might have been his imagination, but he felt his body heat up. If he could sweat, he'd be drenched. If he had a heart, it'd be loud in his ears. He sucked in a big breath, but his lungs didn't expand like they used to, and he was left feeling as though he couldn't get enough air. Blood rushed to his eyes and his teeth slid down from his gums. God, he was hungry. He'd fed before he came, of course. It had taken five fully-grown men to appease what felt like famine in his throat, and he fed on five more after that, just to be sure.

It was too much. He felt like he was being attacked from every corner of his mind and body. Every muscle ached, every nerve vibrated.

He fled out of the window before he did something he regretted, unable to look back. He retreated to the woods from whence he came, his feet moving as fast as they ever had. Yet he was still so new at it all. He was too distracted to keep up with his feet and sometimes they would carry him too close to a large tree, and he would stumble over the roots. Sometimes his legs would stop working like he wanted them to and he would slow to the pace of a human. Finally, he just stopped in the middle of the trees and sat on the ground like a child, shoving his face into his hands and letting the panic leak from his eyes and throat.

He couldn't get his emotions straight. Two visions of Elena attacked him from either side. On one, she was standing somewhere in the sun, somewhere that the warmth would engulf her and fill her smile and eyes. Her hair was down, and blowing in the breeze with her skirt. Pulling on her hand was a little boy, looking up at his mother like he had just watched her put the color in the sky. They were perfect.

On the other side was the sight of those men he killed on the battlefield, all piled together. Elena stuck out from the middle of the pile, her hand reaching out to him. Her body was covered in crescent shaped scars and blood covered her clothing and matted her hair to her face. Below her, he saw the hand of a child emerging from under a blue coat. This was his doing, he realized. He turned his back on them, unable to look at it anymore. Elena, the live one, smiled up at him, but smile left her face when she met his eyes. The sun was too hot. It was burning him.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a man, who took his hand and shoved the ring back onto one of his fingers. When Damon looked down, he could see his flesh healing. He must have taken it off in his panic.

"Lapis lazuli," the man said.

"Excuse me?"

"The stone in your ring, its lapis lazuli."

Damon looked down to appraise what he was talking about. It was a gaudy thing, big and blue, with the letter 'S' and his family crest in the center. Emily had stolen them from Giuseppe's room after they fled. Stefan had one that was exactly the same. It allowed them both to walk in the sun – or it would as soon as Stefan was allowed his – but that was all he knew.

"I have one as well," the man continued, holding up his hand. Indeed, his finger housed a large stone that matched Damon's.

It took a moment for Damon to comprehend. "You are –"

"A vampire."

Damon took a step back. Katherine had not instructed him on what to do if this happened. He was still trying to settle down, but this man put him on edge.

"My name is Frederick, and you are Damon Salvatore."

He nodded even though it wasn't a question.

"I've been keeping a close eye on you," he smirked. "Your father heads - headed - the Council. Seeing how you ended up makes me assume that I don't have to worry about him anymore."

Damon looked to the ground. "You are who they are searching for?"

"Me? No, not quite. Although I do have a vested interest in the one you speak of."

At that, another figure came out of the darkness. Unlike the man before him, she looked more like Damon. Her eyes flicked around her like she was ready for an attack at any minute. Her muscles were tense and her teeth clenched together. "Damon Salvatore," she breathed.

He knew her face. She had gone to church with him since he had come Mystic Falls. She was one of the missing girls. "You're Bethanne."

She nodded. Nothing about her had changed, aside from how jumpy she was. She'd always been like a mouse, Damon remembered. She was five years his senior and still unmarried before she went missing. He'd heard people speak ill of her because of that. "You're dead," she said finally, after a long moment of appraising him.

"As are you."

She turned to Frederick, smiling at him sweetly, and for the moment, shedding her fearful demeanor. "I would disagree," she said.

"She discovered me in the woods," Frederick explained. "I was feeding on a deer – just something to give me the strength to make it to the next town. I feared she would expose me, but she never even ran."

"I thought he was God," she sighed, as though a girl musing over her childhood love.

"She offered me sustenance, which I took."

"Love at first sight…"

"We were going to run off together, so I turned her."

"You were the one who killed those people," Damon said to her. It occurred to him that she was partially to blame for the situation he was in now. Irritation struck the muscles in his stomach.

"It was an accident," she said earnestly. "I was still learning to control myself."

"Why didn't you just leave?"

"My sister fell ill, and I couldn't leave until I knew she was better."

"They'll be looking for you night and day now," Damon said. "You should go."

"Not until she's better!" Bethanne shouted, suddenly growing red in the face.

Damon looked to Frederick, confused, but then he understood. Frederick hadn't told her that she could heal her sister for the same reason Katherine hadn't told Elena. They couldn't afford any more vampires running around and causing trouble.

"If you don't go, they'll catch you. They're learning more every day."

"Then why haven't you gone?"

The sound of those heartbeats came back to Damon's ears. "I couldn't go even if I wanted to."

* * *

><p>Damon took another week before he went to see Elena again. Katherine had become ever more restless in their tiny room at the inn after she learned of Frederick and Bethanne's presence in Mystic Falls. They put Jeremy and Elena at risk, and now that they knew that Damon had turned, it was all too possible for them to tell someone else. She was becoming too traceable.<p>

"You need to say goodbye to her," she said, her face made of stone. "You know she can't come with us. Not with Stefan this way. It will be better if you end things now."

He never planned on going with them, but he agreed anyway. In reality, he planned on deserting the two as soon as they left. Whether Elena wanted him or not, he would always be there to make sure she was safe. He would always be there to make sure his child was safe.

Conversely, Katherine never intended to spend the rest of eternity with Stefan _and_ Damon. She only needed to get him as far away from Elena as possible.

"We won't stay here longer. Not even Stefan's appetite can keep us from moving on. Do you understand that? You need to tell her goodbye."

He shook at the thought as he approached her room once again. This time, he was ready. He knew that the sound of life coming from Elena's body was his, and instead of worrying, he discarded any negative thoughts. It was so easy to forget the burden of fear. Now he couldn't wait to see her. Nothing would ruin it this time.

She slept as she had last time, although her room had acquired a significantly larger amount of clutter. He had to pick up his feet in order to avoid stepping on any of the black garments littering the floor.

He sat on her bedside, brushing a lock of hair from her face. She woke suddenly, snatching his wrist with a gasp. There was a moment of silence between the two. Elena sat for a moment, trying to decide whether it was a dream. His arm was solid beneath her fingers, but she couldn't hear him breathe. He looked so out of place. His spine was too stiff, his gaze too piercing. If it were really him, wouldn't he be happy to see her? Wouldn't he be smiling? Now, he looked fearful and restless.

She fell back down to her pillow and covered her face with her arm, a sob escaping her throat.

"Elena?" he asked, rubbing his thumb over the hand that grasped his. "Why are you crying?"

"You're not real," she whispered. "You're not real. You're not real."

She said it so intensely he wondered for a moment if she was right. "What do you mean?"

"Don't torture me like this. Don't show me your face if you can't be real."

He smiled a little, slipping his free hand under her back and pulling her upright. She looked at him with dark, questioning eyes. She had dreamed this so many times that she wouldn't allow herself to believe, not yet. He brought his lips to hers slowly, wary of the spike in her heartbeat. He shut his eyes and forced himself not to think of it.

When they pulled away from each other, Elena brought her hands to his face. He was there, right in front of her, right underneath her fingertips. She felt the sharp line of his jaw, and dragged her thumb over the smooth curve of his lips. Something was different about him. There was a fire that emitted from within, but his exterior was cool. "Where have you been?"

"To hell."

She thought of his dead body, lying stiffly on the bed. "Really?"

"Anywhere without you is hell, my love."

She rolled her eyes, but a smiled spread across her face like a long dry river being replenished by the rain. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled herself close, throwing him backwards so she lay on top of him. Then she was kissing him all over; on the square of his jaw and the corner of his smile, on his eyelids and the tip of his nose, down his neck and on the tip of his collarbone. She was all around him, and now, the sound of that tiny heartbeat warmed him. She couldn't know, of course. Or could she? He grabbed her face so she would be still, searching for any sign of panic, but there was only happiness. He couldn't tell her now, not yet. He couldn't tell anyone.

Instead, he brought her face back down to his, kissing her lightly at first. Then, like a switch flipped in his brain, he kissed her as deeply as he could, for he could no longer restrain himself. In a second, he had rolled on top of her. Her eyes widened at the sudden speed and strength he possessed, but there was no fear in them. Only excitement. Only love.

He crashed down on top of her, too roughly, perhaps. He was like an unavoidable wave, but she just continued to swim, letting the swells pull her to the bottom of the sea. He wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her as close to him as possible and kissing down her neck and onto her chest. "Damon," she gasped. He smiled at the encouragement, but that wasn't her intention. It was becoming hard to breathe. She could feel the pulse in her fingers and toes from being squeezed to hard.

He could hear the blood pumping through her veins just a little louder now. Trying to hide his face, which he knew would scare her, he buried it in the hair by her neck. "Damon," she said again, this time a little more desperate.

Her voice didn't reach him. Now there was only the beating of her heart and the thin veil of flesh that separated him and what he wanted. Somewhere inside of him, a voice warned him against it, but it was easy to quiet it. He wrapped his mouth around her neck, bracing his teeth against her soft skin, but was pulled from his trance by the sound of a guttural yelp and the crack of bones.

"Damon," she cried one final time, tears falling down her face. He sat up, releasing her from his grip. She looked up at him in horror and he tried to focus on calming himself. A jagged breath shook her body and she grasped at her ribs. "It hurts."

-25-

* * *

><p><em>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oh, dear. It seems I've cut off this chapter at just the wrong time… Hope you all stick around to find out what happens next. ;)<em>

_Go check out my beta reader, Natchez. Her link is on my profile. She's writing her own Delena fanfic that I think you all would like. Did I mention it features Damon via 1864 and Elena via 2009? No? Well, there, I just did. _

_Thanks to you all. You're the best! xo_


	26. Chapter XXVI

**Part I**

**Chapter XXVI**

**1865**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Panic flooded Damon's brain all at once. The agony in her eyes scared him, and he was even more pained to realize that it was he who caused it. How loud had she cried out? Could she have awakened her brother? He couldn't remember; it was all happening too fast. His mind jumped to the baby for a moment, but he couldn't hear the tiny heartbeat over Elena's loud one. The sound made it hard for him to hide his true face, but he didn't want to upset her anymore. She had already seen it once.

He drew in a deep breath, focusing himself. Gently, he lifted his leg back over her body so he wasn't sitting over her anymore. He wiped the tears from her cheek, trying to calm her as though she were a child. "I'm so sorry, my love."

Her eyes flickered to him for a moment and then closed again in pain. He knew what he had to do. In whiskey-soaked memories, he could see Katherine's bloody wrist dripping over his mouth, and in clearer ones he could see her digging her finger into his stomach and then feeding her blood to him. He could do the same, but he wasn't quite sure how. "I'm going to fix this, all right? Be still. It isn't good for you to move." She gasped in response.

He observed the skin of his wrist, drawing his teeth out. It should have been so simple, but it was so unfamiliar to him. He winced at the pain of his teeth sinking into his skin, but it was a minor irritation compared to what he was expecting. He hardly felt it at all, really. The little holes in his wrist were small, only yielding two little drops of blood. _What if it isn't enough?_ He brought his arm up again, this time biting into it as if it were someone he intended to kill. The holes grew into a crescent shaped pool of blood, each of his teeth making a mark in his skin. Again, it hardly felt like a pinch. He held his wrist to her mouth.

"_Drink_," he ordered, and she did. Her body was stiff with her arms locked firmly at her side. After a minute or two, they relaxed and the pain left her eyes. Damon withdrew his arm, which was completely healed, he noticed.

He sat guiltily and quietly, waiting for her to speak. "I didn't know you were one of those," she said, her eyes still closed. "I thought Katherine was going to save you."

"She did." He took her hand in his. "See? I'm here."

She couldn't find the words to speak again. A moment ago, she had been so sure it was him, and now? She was never sure if she could trust Katherine, and now Damon was just like her. He'd almost crushed her, and without having her guard up, he could have killed her.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her so lightly she almost wasn't sure he was there, and then once again, this time with more fervor. "Please, Elena, I'm so sorry." Her eyes were full of distrust when they met his, but there was also tenderness there. Her expression put a sick feeling in his stomach. _This isn't how it's supposed to be_, he thought. He took a moment, weighing the consequences of what he was about to do, but he couldn't stand her looking at him like that for one more second. "_Don't think of it anymore_," he said slowly, although he wasn't sure if he was doing it right. Katherine said he could make anyone do anything if he only looked into their eyes and simply wished it. He wished for nothing more, and his eyebrows were stiff in the middle of his forehead as he focused on her irises. "_It'll be as if this never happened. You know that I'm a vampire, but I would never hurt you. You don't have to be scared of me. Do you understand?_"

She shut her eyes again, as though she were processing everything he said. When they opened, all of the tension in them had bled away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and the smile came back to her face.

"Why did you stop?" she sighed.

He paused, unsure whether the compulsion had worked. "What do you mean?"

Pulling his shirt back just a tad, she raised her head up to kiss the sliver of exposed skin. "Why did you stop kissing me?"

Everything was right in the world because she didn't even remember. His lips returned to her neck and chest, although he was far more controlled this time, never for a second allowing himself to get lost in the way she gasped or giggled. He couldn't afford to. Now there were only the sounds of her heartbeat and the child's that made up for his missing one. He placed a hand over her belly, which she thought odd, but it felt right to have it there.

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs put an end to it all. Damon stilled, and urged Elena to be quiet by putting a finger to his lips. Before she could ask what was wrong, a knock came on the door. Elena sat up nervously, but Damon was already wriggling to get under the bed. "Send them away," he said before ducking his head back under.

She kicked her way through the floor full of garments, only allowing the door to open a crack when she got to it. "Good morning, Miss Elena," Damon heard someone say. It was a woman, her maid, most likely.

"I'm not feeling well," Elena said brusquely.

"You weren't feeling well yesterday either. You haven't been feeling well since John's accident." Damon wondered if that's what they were calling it now.

"I just want to rest today."

The voice was growing more and more exasperated. "You need to eat something."

"Later, perhaps."

There was a moment of silence between the two and then the door closed. Damon didn't dare come out until Elena's footsteps came back to the bed and she was reaching under to pull him out.

"We need to go," he huffed, his hair tousled from being rubbed against the bottom of the bed.

Elena, completely calm again, sidled up to him. "What do you mean?" she purred. Damon thought back to the time when there was still just a stiff tenderness between the two. Had they really been so distant once? It wasn't so long ago that he could only hope that she would lean her leg against his underneath the dinner table. Now, he knew every curve of her. The tips of his fingers had run over the planes of her body a hundred times; they'd walked every path and climbed every peak. She leaned into him with the ease and trust that she had never before felt with anyone, not with her mother or brother, and certainly not with her father. Damon felt a pang of guilt for a moment when he realized that the comfort he saw in her eyes was not her own. Still, he was all too pleased when he saw how easy it was to shoo that feeling away, instead soaking up the sunlight in her gaze.

"We can't go now," she said, slipping her fingers into his and leaving a trail of kisses up his neck. "We've only just begun to settle in."

He thought for sure he would melt. It would only take the whisper of her breath in his ear, the feeling of one more kiss lingering on his skin long after her lips had parted and he would be reduced to a puddle on the ground. Before that happened, though, he stood back, leaving her looking at him with confused eyes and a frown. "Elena," he began, weighing each word carefully. "You know I can't stay here, don't you?"

She only looked at him sadly. It was answer enough for him.

"You know that things can't be as they were, not in Mystic Falls."

Her eyes turned to the floor and she slowly receded within herself. Visions of a future without Damon flashed before her eyes, yet no tears came to her eyes. Her emotions had been so tampered with, they all bled together now. Stress whirled around in her stomach and she feared she would be ill in front of him.

Hearing the jump of her heartbeat, he came to her side, reaching down to take one of her hands in his and brushing the hair from her face. She looked up at him with eyes made of fear and a mouth taut with distress. After a few moments, he found her eyes. "I can't make you do anything," he paused then, realizing his mistake. "I _won't_ make you do anything. I only want to give you happiness, and if that means I have to leave you behind, I will do that for you."

Her eyes grew wide and she opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off before she could.

"You could come with me, though."

Silence, then. A hundred questions passed through her eyes, but she was so shocked, she remained silent. What about Jeremy? What about her home? Her mother was here, as was her father. She'd never known anything else.

"I'd like very much for you to come with me," he said quietly. "I'd always take care of you. I'd protect you. If you grow tired of me, then you can leave, but if you'd like to stay, I'd never leave your side. Even when you've grown feeble with age, I'll carry you in my arms.

_Because you will still be young and strong_, she thought. Again, her body felt differently from her mind. Nervousness tingled in her spine. "Where would we go?" she said finally.

"Everywhere," he smiled. "We'll explore the world, and when we've seen everything, we'll take to the stars."

She laughed at that; it had always been a source of fascination for her. "What will we do for money? For food?"

He hesitated, deciding it was best to leave his dietary habits out of _this_ conversation. "I can make things happen, Elena. Anything you want is yours."

He wasn't lying. All she wanted was Damon, and he was standing right in front of her, offering her the world in the palm of his hand. All she had to do was take it. She thought of what would happen if she said no. He would leave and she would go on as she had, living her life looking out of windows waiting for the boy next door to walk up the path. Until she married, she would live in the distrust and distance of her brother, then her husband, who would no doubt have heard the rumors of her involvement with vampires. She would have as many babies as her husband liked, and it would hurt to look at them when they were missing the part that was supposed to be Damon. Not to say she wouldn't love them. Like so many mothers she saw growing up, her children would become the center of her universe. She would hover around them and focus on them so everything around her was a blur. Then she wouldn't have to deal with a husband whom she could never really love.

The path in which she said yes was much foggier, but Damon was at the end of that path, and that was all that mattered wasn't it?

"What about Jeremy? Could we come back and see him one day?"

He couldn't guarantee that. "If that's what you want."

She looked at him for a moment longer before turning to the desk next to her window. She pulled out a sheet of paper and began writing hurriedly. The ink of the pen dripped and splattered along the page, but she didn't bother getting a fresh sheet. Her body sat in his line of sight, but as she raised the letter in a neat square, he briefly caught a glimpse of her messy handwriting. _All of my love and more, Elena Gilbert_.

-26-


	27. Chapter XXVII

**Part I**

**Chapter XXVII**

**1865**

**?, Virginia**

The thing about sharing blood with vampires is that it's cohesive. A vampire taking blood from the same living source, the same soul, bonds them to that person, and even more so when they give their own. This isn't some oddity only displayed in vampires who become overly attached within a minute of meeting someone either. This is a hard fact every vampire can and will fall victim to.

Any human is good to feed on, no matter their taste or their looks, and a vampire proves that by going through so many in such a short time. Feed, kill, let them live - none of it matters as long as there is fresh blood making its way to the heart. It is different, however, when the same veins sustain a vampire for a long period of time. Like a child at the breast of its mother, a vampire develops deeply rooted attachments to their source of life.

Generally, this happens when a vampire falls in love. The emotions have become so strong, and love, lust, and hunger are so hard to distinguish from each other that they become the same thing. Though vampire and human relationships are rare and often short-lived, it is even rarer to come upon a couple who do _not_ comingle like parasite and prey.

It is very rare that a vampire shares its blood with a human. The erotic and animalistic nature of these beasts leads them to activities such as feeding on one another, especially during sex. The elevation in mood and stimulus combined with the carnal knowledge of the other being who shares the same strength, emotional vulnerability, and euphoric pleasure drives many to treat blood sharing as a drug. With humans, though, sharing blood is a much greater risk. Those vampires who are aged and well versed in the nature of their kind know the risk of feeding a human blood. One small thing goes wrong and suddenly they risk exposure from some insignificant fledgling who can't control himself. Not only that, but blood is the last living part of a vampire. Without it, the creature is truly dead. Some instinct deep within a vampire tells them to part with it sparingly. They still do so for many different reasons. Some like to recreate the intoxication of blood sharing. There are a few who are aroused by the sight of a human enduring the high. Others, deeming themselves some sort of dark heroes, do so in order to help those in need. They will roam war camps or hospitals waiting for someone who is worth saving. Mostly, however, their blood is used to cover tracks. Those feeding on someone they don't intend to kill will return the favor in order to avoid exposure.

Damon Salvatore had a mix of these habits. When he and Elena originally left Mystic Falls, they avoided any trouble longer than one would expect. When they arrived at the inn in Grove Hill late at night, Katherine and Stefan immediately detected something wrong with Elena. Stefan couldn't even stay in the room. Though he had displayed better use of self-control in the last weeks, the sound of two heartbeats in one body proved too much for him. He promptly excused himself to find someone more appropriate to feed on.

Katherine was furious with Damon. He had taken her niece away from her home without her permission, and worse, impregnated her. In her rashness, she threw him against the fireplace, breaking his arm and leaving a significant dent in the sturdy brick. She vowed to take Elena back as soon as Stefan returned, but as they waited, she began to think about it. In this situation, everyone got what they wanted. Elena was happy, Damon could live, and more importantly Katherine would have an heir.

She briefly considered the possibility of Damon harming either Elena or the child, but quickly decided it wasn't possible. He was too soft, even as a vampire. He could protect Elena and the child, and as long as he didn't harm her while pregnant, then everyone would be happy. All she had to do was keep an eye on them both, and maybe kill Damon if he became a problem in the future.

Instead of sending Damon away, then, she decided they should relocate to the next town over in case there was a search for Elena. Reluctantly, Katherine allowed Damon and Elena to stay in their own room next to hers and Stefan's. Stefan had finally earned enough trust to get his ring, and he and Katherine spent most of their days and nights in town, looking for mischief and perhaps a bite to eat. When they returned, Katherine would anxiously go straight to Elena to ensure she was well, and she always was. Elena was forbidden to be out of her room after dark, and if Damon ever made Katherine doubt even for a moment that he couldn't control himself around her, he would be removed, so to speak.

He had no problems in the beginning. They continued on as before, although slowed by the process of Damon learning to control himself around her. They spent every possible minute together. He would tell her what it was like to be a vampire and for whatever reason, it didn't upset her. She would read to him and soothe him when his emotions became overwhelming. He learned how to touch and caress her with his newfound strength. She learned when to tell him if his grip was too tight. They made love. They laughed. They were together, and that's all either of them wanted.

Elena was so infatuated with her new life that she wore the ring Katherine gave her on her ring finger, and when they went about town, they would introduce themselves as a married couple. This began only after Elena learned she was pregnant.

She didn't see the signs until late. When she grew ill at the same time every night right after the sun went down, she only thought it was something she ate at first. This went on for weeks until one night, while she lay in bed after a bout of especially horrid vomiting that she gazed down at herself. Her body was still long, and her legs were still lean, but there was something about her belly that looked different. It protruded slightly as though she had been eating very well, which she had. That and her breasts had grown and were often so tender that she forbade Damon from touching them. She'd never been told outright the symptoms of pregnancy, but she'd heard bits and pieces from friends and ladies around town before.

Stefan and Katherine were out, as always, as was Damon, who spent most of his nights feeding. She looked around at the dim and empty room, which was quiet except for her own nervous breathing, and she was suddenly overcome with loneliness and fear. She sat up as she broke into a confused sob, wrapping her arms around her barely-there belly and cradling it.

It took a hearty effort by both Katherine and Damon to calm her down when they found her. First came Katherine, who stumbled in with Stefan early in the morning. They were drunk on wine – or perhaps drunk on _someone_ who was drunk on wine – but Katherine sobered immediately at the sight of a tear-soaked Elena. Stefan went to their room, avoiding Elena as usual, but Katherine came to her side and put her arm around her in an odd display of affection. She'd hoped to wait a little longer to talk with Elena about it, for fear that something would go wrong and Elena would be unable to face it, but there was no time to put it off now.

She gave Elena a lesson on what was happening to her body, warning her about what to expect and what she could no longer do as a pregnant woman. She told her stories of what it had been like for her so long ago, when times were very different and medicine wasn't as advanced. The talk, though informative, simply left Elena more shaken and fearful than she was before. She woke up that morning thinking babies came from mother's belly buttons, but she went to sleep with a _much_ different image in her head. Damon was next with his sweet words and reassurances. He lay back with her on the bed, nuzzled his face in her soft hair, and she tried to ignore the stench of blood on his breath.

It was Emily who eventually reassured her that everything was going to be fine. She had not been staying with the four since they deserted Grove Hill. Elena wasn't actually sure where she had been hiding, but every time Katherine needed something, Emily was there. She let herself into the room, cautiously sitting next to Elena on the bed. "How are you, Miss Elena?"

Elena looked down at her still growing belly and began to sob again. She had been doing that a lot lately. "Well," she squeaked. "Thank you."

Emily smiled gently and took her hand, rubbing her thumb over it. "Don't be sad, child."

Their eyes met and Elena wondered at how beautiful Emily was. She couldn't be older than Katherine, so it was a wonder she thought 'child' was the appropriate way to address her. Then again, Elena had only just learned of Emily's dealings with magic. Perhaps she didn't age just like Katherine. "I'm not sad," she said finally.

"Then why do you weep?"

The tears rushed forward again. "I don't know."

Emily offered a handkerchief, which Elena took gratefully, dabbing under her eyes. "I think you do." There was a moment of silence between the two and Elena glanced at the door. "They're gone," Emily reassured. "You can speak freely."

Elena nodded, taking a minute to choose her words. "Do you think the baby will be like Damon?"

"He's the father, isn't he?"

"Of course!" Elena scoffed. "I just - I won't know how to feed him if… he's like Damon."

"Oh, dear," Emily smiled sadly. "There's no need to worry about that."

"You're sure?"

"I promise."

Elena let out a deep sigh, wrapping her arms tighter around her belly. Of course, she wanted the baby to be a replica of Damon. Boy or girl, she wanted it to have his smile and his eyes. She could picture a little raven-haired toddler running around in a grassy yard somewhere while they looked on. She would have loved it even if it did have a predilection for blood, but it comforted her to know it wouldn't.

Emily took Elena's hand and placed the palm against the lower half of her belly, holding her own hand directly over it. "A baby is the purest thing in this world, Miss Elena. Did you know that?"

Elena shook her head no but kept her eyes down at the hands on her belly. It grew warmer the longer Emily stayed there.

"Fire destroys, water decomposes, and air is filled with the dust of the earth. But a baby's soul, its humanity, is untouched. Do you know what corrupts it first?"

"What?"

"Love, then happiness."

A smile came across Elena's face, she liked that thought.

"You called it a he, you know," Emily said.

"Did I?"

Emily nodded.

Elena closed her eyes and smiled. Perhaps she did want a boy, another little Damon, or perhaps she knew, deep down inside, what it was. Mothers were supposed to have intuition after all.

After that, Emily came to visit Elena often. She would keep her company when everyone was out feeding. They spent hours together talking or reading, and when Elena had a question about the baby, Emily would answer, no matter how embarrassing it was.

Elena was happy with things once again. She loved to flaunt her pretend-husband around town, talking with the ladies in the shops about baby names. When they came home, they would plan their actual marriage. They'd talk of where they wanted to end up and what color they would paint the walls of their home. Damon's favorite thing was to place his head on her stomach and listen to the sound of its heart. It calmed him, reassured him this was where he was meant to be.

His eating habits became problematic not long after their departure from Grove Hill. Something about Elena's pregnancy made her even more alluring than usual. The changes inside her made her skin smell different. Her breasts had grown swollen and ripe, and her skin was taut around her body. She was glowing and succulent and he couldn't seem to keep himself away her. She didn't mind. She might have been even more ravenous.

One night, when she was especially bothered by Damon's absence, she stayed up late, reading one of the many books that he had give her. She glanced at the clock on the wall repeatedly, hoping time would pass more quickly. He came back early, though, and she immediately saw something was wrong. "Damon?" she asked nervously.

He smiled gently. "Stefan and I had words. I wasn't in the mood to see him anymore."

She opened her arms and he joined her on the bed, falling into her embrace. He smiled inwardly at the warmth that surrounded him. "Words about what?" she asked.

"I thought he wasn't being careful enough," he sighed. "At first I thought he was dancing with a girl, which is strange, because he's supposed to dance with Katherine, but when I got closer I saw his face buried in her neck."

Elena ran her thumb over his jaw, hugging him to her. The stories of their assaults on the unsuspecting townspeople didn't make her uncomfortable anymore.

She could smell the blood on his breath like always. Perhaps it was the baby inside of her, but something about it comforted her now. It was sweet in her nose. Usually it was just something she ignored, something she couldn't understand.

Her lips made their way to his slowly. She wanted to distract him from his exasperation, she hoped to cheer him up, and what's more, she wanted to taste him. Before, she had avoided kissing him after he fed, for fear of the taste and the idea of it all, really. Now, she pushed against his mouth softly, and he smiled against her lips. She liked the taste of him like this, she realized.

After a moment, she swung her leg over him, so she was on his lap. Katherine had warned that her self-control would be all but nonexistent in her condition, but it was worse than that. She ached for him. She held his face roughly to hers and his hands circled over her back, yet she could feel the reluctance in them. She pressed harder against him still, rubbing herself against his body. His resistance was feeble.

He stifled a moan; something wasn't right. He hadn't fed enough and he could feel the veins strain and vibrate under his skin at the feel of her pulsating against him. Each time her heart pumped he could feel the blood rush though her body, right beneath her skin, right against his. When she pulled away to kiss his ear and down his neck, he realized his true face was showing. Elena mustn't have seen, or she didn't act as if she had. This was a problem every time they were together, but it was worse now that he hadn't eaten his fill. He grabbed her by the arms and tried to push her back, but she wasn't so easily deterred.

"Damon," she breathed, and it was so quiet he might not have heard it without a vampire's ear. The sound sent shivers down his spine as he rubbed his hands up the skin of her legs under her gown.

It occurred to him that he might need to leave and feed after all. The thought came a second too late because Elena was already pushing back down against the soft covers of the bed. She was kissing him again, her eyes closed and her hands roaming as they liked, but Damon could still feel the blood rushing to eyes. If she opened hers for just a second, she might never want to look at him again.

Only a second passed after that before he lost control. It was all because of the poorly – or perfectly, if you prefer – timed combination of her whispering some sweet thing in his ear that no respectable girl would have ever even thought as she dragged his hands down to the place between her legs. He couldn't control himself then. He wanted her, and any vampire who wants, needs. This wasn't something he could walk away from. Not now. He flipped her on her back, and when she opened her eyes the sight of a monster met her. She'd seen it before, but it was a shock nonetheless.

She reached up and touched the skin of his face with childlike fascination, finally looking without fearing. "You're beautiful," she breathed.

Damon felt chills spread down his back and guilt slide up his throat. She could accept him, he realized. His nature didn't have to a barrier between them. It didn't have to be an elephant in the room, but his mind was cloudy and she was in his nose and all around his body. He struggled with the temptation for a moment longer, and his breath was heavy because he knew he would regret what he was about to do. It was inevitable.

"Elena?"

"Damon," she purred and, God, her voice sounded like music. It was that same voice he heard when he cried himself to sleep at camp and again when he almost died on the battlefield.

"I'm very sorry about this."

Her eyes were questioning for a moment, but she quickly realized what he meant when he went for her neck. He burrowed his face there, and what was at first a pinch became a burning, throbbing, inescapable pain. "All right, Damon," she said calmly. "Enough."

She didn't understand that Damon wasn't there any longer. Her hand wrapped around her belly as though she could protect the little one inside and she struggled under him. "Damon," she was firm now, verging on panic. "Stop!"

"Just a little more," he growled.

Tears filled her eyes and she struggled harder. "Stop! Please!" she begged.

He pulled away then. For a moment, he just allowed her blood to run through his system. What was it about her specifically that made her blood so good, so sweet? He didn't care. All he could do was revel in the warmth that spread through his system, all the way down to his toes and up to his brain.

Frenzy replaced his nirvana when he saw her face. She turned her face away from his, grasping at her neck and stomach. Tears had already begun to wet the pillow under her. He dismissed his own distress easily and now he was calm. "Elena," he said sweetly. "I'm so sorry, Elena. Look at me."

She looked up at him with the same distrust in her eyes as when she first found out he was a vampire.

"_Just forget all about this, darling._" He dug into his wrist with his teeth. "_Don't be frightened. Everything is fine_."

-27-

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><p><em>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<em>_ Damon, Damon, Damon... It seems like he just makes one bad decision after another. Hope you're all enjoying and thanks so much for reading and interacting with my story. I really appreciate it._

_As always, thanks to my beta, Natchez. She's a hero, and you can find the link to her on my profile._

_Talk soon. xo_


	28. Chapter XXVIII

**Part I**

**Chapter XXVIII**

**1865**

**?, Virginia**

Elena inhaled deeply, taking in the warm air with a smile. Spring would be coming to an end soon, and she cringed at the thought of walking around in the heat once summer came. It felt good now, though. A breeze shielded her from the sun's stronger rays, but she was warm enough that she could feel her feet and hands. In the past months, she'd noticed that they were so cold that they grew numb. A doctor they had long since left behind told her it could be a symptom of poor circulation, but nothing to worry about. She didn't think of it again.

Since the love of her life died, perhaps even earlier, Elena had struggled with her faith. Before, she was known for her devotion to the church, but she had grown hesitant. It occurred to her that it was because love made her selfish. When Damon left, she asked God why. When he was gone for months and months, she prayed every day that He kept him safe. When she learned of Damon's injury, she began to doubt His kindness. When he was dead, and she looked into his eyes that were cold and blank, she didn't see God. She didn't see the Devil either. She saw nothing. Once Damon had returned to her, though, she began to feel guilty. Damon had come back to her, and in the end, all was well. She knew it was time for her to return.

Around her, men, women, and children went this way and that. All of them, including her, had just finished at church, and now they were busy socializing and making plans. Elena didn't know a single one. She sat quietly on a little bench outside the door. Damon still hadn't come back yet to escort her home. He had to leave early, with Stefan in tow, when they both found that sitting in the small room packed with bodies was much more distracting than they thought. Katherine hadn't come, of course, so it was up to Damon to ensure that his brother had made it a safe distance away. The thought of leaving with them crossed Elena's mind, but she decided she needed to stay. She couldn't keep up with either of them anyway, and her presence would only overwhelm Stefan.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Damon approaching from far away, but even at this distance she could tell he was itching to run in that way he did. He was like a child with a new toy. He wanted to run and use his new strength so much that he felt he had no use for walking like normal. He had no choice here, though.

She stood and laid a hand on her belly, which was much bigger now, though Katherine said she was still far from done growing. As she began walking toward him, she could feel his agitation grow. His hands twitched at his sides and his smile was forced. He hated for her to walk alone, for fear that she would grow exhausted without his arm to lean on. If they were alone, he would be at her side in a moment, but they weren't, and someone was always watching.

Admittedly, fatigue did begin to creep up her legs and seep into her lungs the longer she walked, but she smiled anyway, trying to keep her breathing steady. Finally, when they were just close enough and he couldn't bear it anymore, he did run – as fast as a human could, anyway. It made her laugh to see him in such a hurry. "Darling," he sighed, relieved when she was at his side. He snaked a hand around her back and wrapped the fingers of his other around the hand on her belly. She smiled widely, as she always did when he was around, and he placed a soft kiss on her cheek, allowing his lips to linger there for just a second too long.

"Are you feeling well?" she asked him.

"I'm fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "I could have lasted the whole service, but Stefan was behaving strangely. First, his fingers began to twitch, and then he stopped breathing altogether. I thought it best he left."

"I'm glad you removed him." She was. Only a few weeks after he earned his daylight ring, he lost it. Even though Katherine wouldn't say anything, Stefan eventually told Damon she had caught him in a brothel. Anyone who was still living when she discovered him was just barely so. They had to flee much farther and quicker than normal that time and Stefan lost his ring for a month. Damon had tirelessly dedicated himself to keeping him under control ever since.

"I thought he'd be embarrassed if I said something, so I told him _I _was uncomfortable."

"You're good to him."

"He's my brother." She took his arm and they began walking down the beaten path. "What about you? You sound tired."

She smiled at him a little. Worry covered his whole face. "I'm always tired, my love."

"I just wish I could take the burden off of you."

"It'll be worth it," she said, gazing down at the bump under her gown.

He grew giddy then, as he often did when they spoke of the baby. "How is she?"

"She?" Elena laughed.

"You've taken to calling it a 'he', I just don't want it to feel pressured in either direction. A little Elena running around wouldn't be so bad."

"You couldn't handle two of us," she smirked.

"And you believe two of _me_ would be a walk in the garden?"

She squeezed his arm tighter and leaned her head against his shoulder for just a moment. "As long as I have you."

"What should we call it?"

"The baby?" she asked, turning to look at him again.

"Yes."

"I always thought we could name the first one after my father if it's a boy or your mother if it's a girl."

"The first one?"

She stopped dead in her tracks and heat rose to her cheeks. She hadn't even thought about what she was saying. He held his hand out to her, his eyes sympathetic. He could feel her heartbeat pick up and her face was tight as though she were holding back tears. Elena cried a lot now. Katherine had told him it was his job to be there for her. He wasn't very good at it at first, but he'd figured it out after a while. She just needed a little coaxing and soothing, and she would be fine. It would be harder this time, he realized, because her tears weren't from breaking a bowl or tearing her dress; these were the tears she would have shed at his funeral, had he needed one. "I-" she started but the words didn't come to her. Tears threatened to escape her eyes now.

"Come," he said softly. "We'll get you some dinner."

As they walked in silence, Elena thought about what she just said. She had honestly never considered that this would be her first and last child by Damon. This would be the last time she felt like this. In her dreams, they had a bounty of children. Now she was down to one. Church was still on her mind and she thought about how she should be grateful she was having a child at all. _I'm lucky_, she assured herself silently, but the thought didn't ring true. Feelings of grief that were still muted from Katherine's compulsion battled with the grief for all of her children she would never have, for the life with Damon that she would never see.

She let the tears flow freely. By now, she knew there was no use in trying to stop them. Damon held tightly to her hand, stroking his thumb over her fingers. "Mary or Grayson?" he said, finally.

"Hmm?"

"You said you liked the names Mary and Grayson."

She nodded, sniffling a little.

"I love them."

"You do?"

"They're perfect."

She smiled a little, willing the tears away, but they just kept coming.

"Whether one child or one hundred, it will always be enough for me." He stopped her then and put a hand over her stomach. "This is us, Elena. Whether we have one or one hundred, I'll be happy still. All I need is you and her."

"Him," she joked, trying not to cry, but it just came harder. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "I love you," she said, muffled by his coat. She held on to him tightly and as she inhaled him she thanked God for the hundredth time that he was by her side. Perhaps she wasn't so distanced from her faith after all.

When they finally returned home, which was just another inn where they stayed (free of charge, of course), Damon kept his word and brought Elena some food. First, he helped her up the stairs and out of her Sunday best, putting her gently into bed and fetching her book from across the room. He gave her a small kiss on the cheek before going to find some food. While she ate and read, pretending not to notice the aching in her feet, he went to check on Stefan, who looked like a dead body sprawled out on his bed. Technically, he was.

"Brother," Stefan said, sounding exasperated. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Control yourself."

Damon chuckled, sitting on the bed next him as he sat up. "It's ironic isn't it?"

"What?"

"_You_ were always the stiff one."

Stefan laughed. "If only I were now."

"It takes time," Damon assured. "It becomes easier the longer you deny yourself."

"I'm just so easy to persuade, and even worse, I'm easily persuaded."

"I'll be here for you, Stefan. We have a whole lifetime and more to figure it out."

Stefan smacked his brother's shoulder in thanks before standing up to pour himself a glass of whiskey. It was the good stuff. Stolen a couple of towns back. "How is Elena?"

"Drained, as I expected. She's eating now."

He nodded awkwardly, handing Damon a glass and taking his own into his hands. "Speaking of draining and eating the women in our life…"

"Not now," Damon said rolling his eyes.

"Humor me!" Stefan laughed. "Katherine _loves_to be bitten, I was just wondering if it runs in the family."

Another trait Stefan lost in death was his tact. Whatever subtlety he had in life was long gone, or hidden behind his blood lust. Now, he thought it was funny to make people squirm from his words. It was a trait all vampires possessed deep down, but Damon had a better sense of discretion. "You know I don't know that, brother." His voice was tight, partly because of his brother's behavior, partly because he was lying.

"You haven't even thought about it?"

"Of course not."

"It'd be easy, you know." He knew. "You could just compel her to forget, or better, compel her to be willing."

Damon couldn't even look Stefan in the eye. Had he really grown so cold? "You make me think I can't trust you around her."

"You probably can't," Stefan shrugged. "I can't be trusted around anyone, these days."

A low snarl rose in Damon's throat at the thought.

"Worry not. I'm only teasing." He finished his glass and poured another. "I wish Katherine were human some days."

"If she were, we wouldn't be here."

"I like to think her blood would be sweet like candy. As feisty as she is, I'd have to fight her for it."

"I'm betting she would win."

"Against a vampire?"

"She's smarter than you, smarter than us all. You'd end up with a stake in your heart."

"Perhaps I'd be better off that way."

The thought stuck witho Damon as he made his way back to his room. Some days it was like his brother had never even existed and some monster was walking around with his face. His heart felt heavy in his chest. Elena had fallen asleep; her book lay open and facing downward on her belly. She still had bread in her hand and little crumbs on her chest. He smiled, tucking away thoughts of his brother and taking the bread out of her hand and putting it back on the plate at her bedside. Her breath hitched and her eyes fluttered open at the movement. "Oh, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

He smiled and sat at her side, wiping a little crumb from her cheek. Her smile was embarrassed. "You needed the rest."

"It's too early to rest."

He nudged her arm and she scooted over a little, allowing him to crawl up next to her and settle into her warmth on the mattress. His hand settled in his favorite spot on her belly as she pulled the covers up over him. This is where he wanted to be for the rest of his life. "Sleep a little longer," he said softly. "We'll go to the theatre tonight."

"I'm a grown woman," she pouted. "I don't need naps."

"Won't you do it for me?" he said sweetly.

"I'm not tired," she said, turning to him with a mischievous eye. "Perhaps you could wear me out?"

Could he say no? He didn't stand a chance as she leaned over him and kissed him deeply on the mouth. Stefan's words rang out loudly in his mind. He turned her over so she was on her back and he could feel her sliding her gown up over her knees. Her legs shook as she wrapped then around his waist, hugging his pelvis to hers.

Guilt simmered in the back of his brain as he struggled to keep his normal face. He knew feeding on Elena was wrong, but he could still taste her blood if he thought about it. He didn't want to keep that secret from her. He didn't want to take advantage of her. She struggled under him, trying to pull him closer, but his body remained rigid on top of her. He knew it would just take a moment of weakness and he wouldn't be able to resist.

"What is wrong, my love?" She took his face into her hands and forced him to look at her.

He took a moment to compose himself, pasting a gentle smile on his face so not to worry her. His hand found its way onto her neck, resting just above her jugular, and he could feel the blood rushing in and out. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just tired."

She frowned, slowly detaching herself from him. The lust drained from her cheeks and now they were pink with embarrassment. "Oh."

"Don't be upset," he said with a smirk.

"Of course I'm not."

"You're pouting."

She sat up, forcing him to the side. He lay back on the pillows, rubbing her back. "I don't pout," she said, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Then I must be blind."

"You are!" she blurted. Her apologetic eyes found his as she turned to face him again. "You can't see how much I want you, Damon." Her hand slid up under his shirt and her nails dragged against his skin softly. "I think about you all day." She took his hand and placed his palm against her cheek, kissing his wrist softly when it came close to her mouth. "You're in all of my dreams." He sat up, never taking his eyes off of her. "You're inescapable." She kissed him, and though she looked like she was in some other world, he never even shut his eyes.

"Elena..."

"I can feel you slip away sometimes," she said. "I can't keep up with you anymore."

"That's not true."

She pulled herself up and swung her leg over his body so she was sitting in his lap. "Sometimes I think I should just give you my blood. I know how much you want it."

He tried to blink the red away from his eyes, but she was kissing his neck now, leaving her neck and shoulder totally exposed to his mouth that was open from drawing in ragged breaths. He realized she knew exactly what she was doing, but he was completely at a loss.

When she came back to face him, he ducked his head away from her. She pushed his chin up to face her again, staring straight into his eyes, which looked like a monster's now. "Don't hide," she said quietly. "Don't be ashamed of what you are. I know you would never hurt me."

It was his turn to blush now because he already had.

"I just wish you could want me like I want you. I wish you didn't have to restrain yourself."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she smiled, kissing the veins that stood out under his eyes. "Don't hide yourself from me. If you need me to back away so you can take a breath, tell me."

"You won't be angry?"

"I can find a way for you to make it up to me later," she smirked.

What Elena didn't know – and Damon was all too aware of – was that he had began to feed on her regularly. Instead of doing as she asked, he would just let the desire wash over him. Sometimes he would struggle with the guilt for a moment, telling himself that it was wrong, but Stefan was right: it was so easy to convince himself otherwise.

It wasn't a problem for Damon until Emily came to visit Elena one day. It had a few weeks since they had seen each other. Katherine had sent Emily away on one of her secretive errands, but she went to see Elena the second she got back. Immediately, she noticed something amiss, but her smile never faltered. Elena looked happy, ecstatic even. Her smile was almost as big as her belly, but something was certainly wrong. Damon sat in the chair next to her, his leg crossing in front of her as if to draw a line for any potential predators who might come close. _He is an animal after all_, Emily thought. She tried to pay him no mind, as she did with most vampires, but something about the air in the room was off. Too cold, she thought, or maybe to warm. She wrapped Elena in her arms upon approaching, stepping over Damon's leg and swallowing delight at his discontent. "Emily!" Elena squealed. "You can't know how I've missed you!"

"It's been too long," she agreed. "Look how big you're getting!"

Elena smiled down at her belly, knotting her hands together on top of it. "Won't be long now."

Emily's hand reached out towards it to feel, and she could have sworn she heard a snarl in the bottom of Damon's throat. Not even the polite and charming Salvatores could avoid becoming territorial madmen once they transitioned; it was in a vampire's nature to be that way. It wasn't until her hand reached its goal that she became concerned. Instead of the heat that usually met her there, she was met by an ice cold chill and the vision of a crow. Something was wrong.

-28-


End file.
